


The Burning Rim

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Het huis Anubis | Das Haus Anubis | House of Anubis, House of Anubis
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 31,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're connected, whether they like it or not. Twelve versus the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. white snow

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of unrelated - unless otherwise noted - snippets, whether canon-compliant missing scenes or AU what-ifs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories plague her, each moment relived over and over, a cracked and overplayed record. (Nina, Fabian/Nina)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cursing.

_Drip._

The water trickles down the dirt-caked walls until it reaches the rotting wooden floors, a puddle of gunk and water and old. The cold liquid stains her spine, shivers running down her limbs and skin and bones. Her numb hands stay frozen, crushed between weak thighs and loose floorboards, but she doesn't dare try to move them.

Her eyes stare lifelessly. Her eyes send signals of simplicity – an ancient attic, filled with adventures and mysteries and untold stories. But her mind dreams of Fabian-touches, Amber-wit, Patricia-sarcasm, Alfie-laughs, Mick-questions, Jerome-schemes, Mara-plans. Her mind witnesses the ebb and flow of group dynamics – the clashing personalities, the fitting puzzle-pieces, the joined hearts. Memories plague her, each moment relived over and over, a cracked and overplayed record. Each scene haunts her –  _my fault, all my fucking fault._

Nina's not one to curse – but she's a fucking teenager and her friends are fucking  _gone_  so she'll damn well curse the fucking world. There's nothing left but her, the house, and the bitter necklace, haunting and teasing.

She wishes Victor could come back. She wishes Trudy hadn't left. She wishes she'd stayed in America – but as the final wish crosses her mind, she knows she's overacting.

Nina Martin doesn't do regrets.

She once told Fabian – midnight escapades, stolen grazes, shared looks, longed-for kisses – that she was risk-taker. Her heart aches, but her brain whirls –  _I'm wallowing._  And when she pictures girls with ice-cream and chick-flicks and tears, her blood boils. When hand meets wall, her active hand is no longer numbed and the wall bears a permanent hole, another scar added to a long list of damages. Gears turn, images float past like a slideshow, but no tangible course of action appears. Wisps of possibilities, smokes of  _what-ifs_ , tease the edges of consciousness, but Nina's clueless.

The red and cut fist rests on the ground again, and her eyes land on the ceiling.

_You told me once what I needed to find. What do I need to do now?_

The House replies quietly and firmly. The unfamiliar curl of the corners of her lips transpires hope, white snow in a background of darkness.

 


	2. a plastic box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hates his parents, he hates his teachers, and he hates his friends. (Jerome, Mick/Mara, Jerome/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cursing.

He's sure he has life very-fucking-well figured out.

Parents shove away what they don't want, adults patronize what doesn't belong, boys ignore what they don't want to be, and girls reject what they can't handle.

It's raining and freezing and stifling the day he finds out about the car accident.  _Skid. Boom. Dead._

It's snowing and numbing and confiding the day he finds out about the scholarship.  _Rip. Tear. Gone._

It's sunny and bright and suffocating the day he finds out about the new guy.  _Joke. Laugh. Snatched._

It's windy and light and grounding the day he finds out about the movie.  _Hands. Kiss. Goodbye._

He hates his parents, he hates his teachers, and he hates his friends.

But it's cloudy and pleasant and normal the day he finds out how wrong he is.

Nina grabs his arm and drags him to out of his room that day. He doesn't know why  _she_  was assigned Jerome-duty for the day – they'd been alternating, taking shifts, but today he'd expected Alfie. Her fingers dig into his skin, red streaks on otherwise perfect white. His feet sweep the floor, but he no longer protests – he gave that up weeks ago. He gave up speaking weeks ago.

Everything appears gray. The stairs, the paintings, the chandelier all blur together, no beginnings and no endings. Nina's grip remains firm, and Jerome finds himself climbing down steps, traveling empty corridors, reaching automatic doors.

It's when they turn the corner, enter the sitting room, and he eyes the balloons, streamers, and  _people_  that he remembers it's the 15th.

_"_ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" The words cut through him, shattering the stoic wall of silence. He sees Amber giggling and Fabian laughing and Mick whistling. He sees Nina hesitantly grinning at him, Patricia smiling, Alfie moving towards him for his birthday punches.

He flinches.

Alfie stops his arm midway to his shoulder and instead moves for a hug. Startled and scared, he doesn't embrace his best friend back, doesn't move or speak. The whispers from the other students start growing, but he senses Nina and Patricia shooing them away.

It's seven against one. Jerome has always had the gift for calculating the odds, and he knows they're not in his favor. It's like an intervention – only worse.

"Jerome – " It's Fabian who breaks the uneasy silence, forcing Jerome to shift his gaze from air to substance. "Jerome, telling you we're worried seems counterproductive." The words elicit feelings of humor within him, but they stir uselessly before disappearing. "But you  _are_  worrying us."

"You've been locked away in your room for a  _month_! You only come out when we drag you, you only eat when Mara or Amber force-feed you, you only respond if I come close to dying," Alfie says, his voice hard and sad. "Prank week started yesterday and you didn't even  _try_  to powder my pjs!" Alfie's already strained voice grows higher in pitch. Sympathy and guilt augment slowly, but the threshold is missed and they fall away.

"What's wrong?" Nina hasn't left his side the entire time, so the presence of her small hand on his long arm remains unnoticed until her words reach him. "What  _happened?_ "

Jerome wants to laugh. He wants to bitterly throw all their words back in their face –  _you wanted me to nicer, to be more serious, to_ care _. Well, I fucking care now, and look where that's gotten me_. He wants to punch Mick in the nose, he wants to shred Amber's psychology paper, he wants to steal all of Nina's shiny and  _mysterious_  artifacts.

He wants to fight back, but all he can do is fall to the ground, the wall somehow magically appearing at his back, boxed in from both the outside and within.

No one moves, only exchanged looks and worried glances and whispered pleas. But finally Mara stomps forward, kneels before him, and lifts his chin.

"Look at me, Jerome," she commands. He knows she's serious but despite the finger on his chin he shakes it off and glares at his knees again. But then there's a harder shove upwards, her hand holding his face in place. "Jerome Clark – fucking look at me, or I will call your parents."

There's a heartbeat moment where he wonders if Mick fucking Campbell realizes how assertive his girlfriend can be or if Amber and Patricia notice how observant their ex-best friend is. But gravity climbs to his stomach, pulling him into the abyss he believed he had escaped, and the one thing he had avoided slams into him, slapping him across the face repeatedly.

The noiseless tears fall.

Mara's eyes widen in shock when she feels water on her fingers. Her arms around him in another heartbeat, and he can feel her warm breath against his neck. Nina grabs his hand, squeezing softly. Amber slides down next to him, until her soft voice pierces the silence of his tears.

"Jerome, why are you crying?"

One question, and all his assumptions face him, a row of marching soldiers ready for battle. He can't answer the question without charging ahead, confronting his thoughts and emotions. He  _can't_.

So he sits silently as Fabian locks the doors and Mick sits awkwardly behind Mara, who is still wrapped around him. Patricia and Alfie and Fabian join the misshapen circle, a mess of tears and arms and secrets.

Ninety-three heartbeats pass before Amber starts talking.

"My mum left Daddy and I when I was just entering my gel pen phase. I didn't tell anyone about it at school because they all had mums who loved them and bought then bras and gave them tampons. But then last year, she came back." Jerome notices the shaking in her voice, the tension in her muscles. It pains her to reveal this, he notes, and the foreign way the words leave her lips tells him she hasn't done it before. Amber sighs. "She came back, and she was six-months pregnant with Nathan, and Daddy and her argued for hours when I went home for a visit during the summer. The next morning he told me they finally filed for divorce so she could marry her new baby-daddy." Her voice, usually so bubbly and giddy and nonsensical, fills the pauses with meaning.

When Fabian starts spilling, Jerome is nothing but surprised. "My ex-girlfriend – before, um, Joy – once ignored me for entire week because I hung up on her because I was late to school. She also stole my physics homework, used my idea for the science fair as her own project, and refused to let me hang out with Joy and Patricia. She broke up with me when she found me and Amber in a room alone together because I was giving her advice about Mick." Fabian rushes through the words, but they're clear and poignant and Jerome understands what's happening without having to think.

Nina laughs. "Before this – before boarding school, my life was normal. My parents loved each other, my little brother annoyed me, my friends gossiped about boys and teachers and movies. I was the one who wanted to move here – and when I did, life suddenly became interesting. Between avoiding death, finding treasure, and solving riddles – there's rarely a moment for me to, you know," she says, shrugging and smiling and her eyes meeting Fabian's and Jerome can  _see_  the implied " _don't worry about it, we'll talk later"_  hidden within. "My fun is my adventure and my adventure is my fun."

"Treasure?" questions Mick. "What are you talking about?"

"Nina, Fabian, Patricia, Alfie and I have been searching for treasure hidden in the house. We think – we think it has something to do with Joy and Victor and Mr. Witter acting so weird all of a sudden," says Amber, spilling without thought.

Red, fire,  _burn._ Mara ignores Mick's interrogation of the others when she grabs his wrist, staring in his eyes.  _Can she see the red? The anger? The betrayal?_

"I didn't know either," she says. The anger still builds, clumping and stretching. "But I'm sure Alfie didn't tell you for a reason." Water douses the fire, retracting and smothered. Her fingers rub against his pulse point as her eyes turn to Nina. "Alfie being in the hospital and Patricia going missing – does this have anything to do with that?"

Nina nods solemnly, and Fabian's arm rubs against hers. "Yeah. It's a long story."

"Aren't they all?" The cracked voice leaves his surprised lips and they all face him. "I mean, I could say – my parents were in a car crash on the 25th, I was rejected from my business scholarship on the 27th because of a bad teacher recommendation, Alfie was ditching me for all this mystery shit apparently, and Mara was off snogging with Mick all the time, and it wasn't like I'm  _friends_  with the rest of you. So I slept with Gracie Jameson because she told me it would make it all better and I was drunk because I found Victor's liquor cabinet and I was  _done_. Fed up. So why not fuck it all?"

The shaking of his voice dulls the normally prominent cutting edge. His gaze never leaves Mara's face, but he senses the judgment oozing off of Nina and Fabian, the hurt from Alfie and Amber, the confusion from Mick and Patricia. Mara's perfectly sculpted face remains neutral – but her eyes smile. The optimistic look cuts him, and he looks away, only to find a similar one in Nina – her head's tilted to the side, but her mouth is curled upwards and Fabian studies Mick thoughtfully. Alfie looks  _guilty_  and Amber  _upset_  and Patricia angrily slaps him on the shoulder and doesn't apologize when he flinches.

"You  _idiot_. Not  _friends_ , are we? I'll remember that the next time you ask me for girl advice or when I need you to help me crush one of the younger kids' spirits," she spits at him, but there's little distaste in her tone.

"I'm slightly disappointed, Jerome. I was going to make you ring-barer at my wedding," whispers Amber. Something begins to gnaw at his stomach when he finds Amber's sad eyes and quivering lips. She moves out of the way when Alfie crawls between them, his fist out. Jerome eyes it hesitantly before Alfie rolls his eyes and lifts Jerome's hand, bumping fists.

The smile that grazes Jerome's lips augments the flittering warmth rising in his stomach, his senses mindful of the soft hands intertwined with his. Mara squeezes his hand and he looks at her. He looks at her and  _smiles_  before looking at all of them.

"Sorry," he grunts. Mick shrugs nonchalantly and Jerome wonders if they'll be anything other than friends of friends. Patricia rolls her eyes but smiles and Amber grins happily and plants a kiss on his cheek. Alife laughs and rubs Jerome's hair in that annoyingly  _Alfie_  way and Nina and Fabian nod in his direction, beaming.

Nothing's solved and his parents – his abandoning, leaving-him-to-rot parents – are still dead, he's still stuck without money, and the girl he'll finally admit he likes is dating a guy he barely knows but really should. But he has a group of friends who may be nothing like him, but they fit. They fit and compromise and work.

Life seems to more than plastic boxes, Christmas lights, and pessimistic assumptions.

 


	3. alien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything gnaws at him from the inside, and all he wants to do is embarrass someone. Anyone. (Jerome, Mick/Mara, Jerome/Mara)

He sees flashing lights and blurred colors and spinning bodies, but they all blend together. He sees her clearly, though. She's in his arms, floating on clouds, gravity useless. Gravity grasps his stomach tightly, on the other hand, clenching the organ into a mess of confusion and feelings and disgust. Everything gnaws at him from the inside, and all he wants to do is _embarrass_  someone. Anyone.

He'd try to be proactive – he tried proving that MickandMara weren't meant to be, that they were Mick and Mara. He'd tried proving that JeromeandMara worked better, that  _Jerome_  was better, but those plans were discarded papers, building in a trashcan of the forgotten and unneeded.

Grunts and grumbles offer no aid, merely methods of venting, of releasing pent up emotions and  _feelings_  he couldn't express to Alfie. ( _Alfie, who hadn't spoken to him in weeks about anything other than school and seemed to be constantly attached to the hip to Nina and Fabian and Patricia and Amber._ ) Jerome can feel the combination of mainstream-pop music and grinding teenagers and MickandMara slowly melting his brain. He escapes out of the gym, choosing to loiter in the empty hallways, remnants of bass and alcohol clouding the pristine school setting.

He knows it'd never work. Even if they're  _better_ , even if everything aligned perfectly – they wouldn't work. The jerk and the brains. The beauty and the beast. Human attraction's based upon similarities, not differences, and Mara's the most scientific-minded girl he knows. Nature works against him. (Never mind that pop culture and  _fairy tales_  are in his favor.)

He ends up at her locker. Subconsciously, his feet guide him to the place filled with her essence. The decorations and the location reek of  _Mara_ , and it unnerves and soothes him at the same time.

He's about to bang his head against the nearest locker when footsteps join him.

"Hey," her soft voice greets him, and the  _feelings_  he hates – and loves, oh does he love it – surface, teasing in anticipation yet haunting in dread. "You left."

Jerome shrugs, not knowing another response. "Yeah. Dances aren't really my thing."

"More a party-person?" Mara asks, lightly teasing.

"Something like that, yeah," he says, smiling despite himself. "Why'd you leave? You and Mick seemed to be having such a nice time."

She bites her lip. "Mick's great, yeah. They changed to some song I didn't know and he was tired so we decided to take a break." Her word choice intrigues him, but he knows he's reading too much into her words. He does that quite a bit lately.

"Oh. Okay." His lame answer elicits the needs to punch himself, but he restrains when she looks around awkwardly. "So how are you? We haven't really talked since, well – "

"The campaign," she finishes. A pause passes before she continues. "I've been good. Mick and I have been spending so much time together, I barely get to talk to Patricia any more. Not that she's noticed or anything," she adds, almost bitterly. "And of course, Amber hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Jerome corrects. "She's just upset with you. And Mick. And the situation, really." He resists the urge to add  _she's not the only one_.

"I'm not fan of it either," she says, and Jerome isn't sure if it's a slip or not. "I mean – I really like Mick, but… I miss her. I miss her and Patricia and having Fabian as a study-buddy and Alfie picking on me – and you."

Jerome doesn't know how to respond, what to say, words out of reach. Mara steps towards him and Jerome gulps in what he hopes is a subtle manner.

"Jerome, I miss you. I miss playing chess with you and working on our campaign." She's close enough that she has to strain her neck upwards to catch his eye. "I miss you telling me about your family and you not needing to ask about mine to know what was going on."

His throat refuses to work, dry and inert. But a hand to his chest and suddenly the wheels turn. "Mara – "

"I like Mick. I really like Mick. But you and Amber and Patricia and Alfie – are you guys more than that?"

" _Mara_  – "

"Jerome." Her strained voice echoes against him, vibrating against his chest and her arm.

"Mick's a great guy, and you two are perfect for each other, meant to be." Each piece of his heart crumbles away with each word, a pile of heartache. "So don't throw that away because you  _think_  you're friends are slipping away." He takes her hand in his own, lessens the distance between them. "Talk to Patricia, I'm sure she'll listen if you make her. Amber might take a little more time, but eventually, she'll turn around. We can  _both_  talk to Alfie if you want. And me – " his voice cuts off, and he bites his lip. "You'll always have me."

She stares at him for a full two seconds before turning around. She storms out, beautiful and graceful and collected, not angry and not sad. Confusion surrounds Jerome, plaguing his thoughts as he moves to follow her, calling out to the retreating girl.

When she doesn't return immediately, he wonders what exactly he said that repulsed her so much.

When she doesn't return in three minutes, he wonders why exactly girls are so freaking complicated.

When she doesn't return in five minutes, he wonders why he even bothers.

When she returns five minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, she tackles him, launching her tiny body onto his and he catches her. He catches her and she kisses him soundly before telling him that she broke up with Mick but while she loves Jerome, they need to take it slow because it'll upset Mick and everyone will think she's a slut. But Jerome narrows in on the  _I love you_  and stares at her, shocked.

At that moment, with Mara in his arms and the taste of her on his lips, JeromeandMara doesn't seem like such an alien concept.


	4. naked feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But everything's perfect. (Fabian/Nina)

It's cold ( _the heating's off)_ , it's dark ( _it's past midnight_ ), and it's quiet ( _everyone is supposedly asleep_.) But everything's perfect.

When he woke up from his nap, Mick wasn't in his bed. He shrugged it off and headed up the stairs, but halfway through the foyer, he spots her and he motions to his room. Perfectly in-sync, the pair moves quickly and quietly through the ancient house, resting on his bed, guitar stowed away in the closet.

He stares at her for a good three minutes before either of them says anything. The silence comfortably surrounds them, embracing him with warmth and a churning gut. Her skin grazes against his every few seconds, and her breath sounds in tune with the loud, obnoxious rhythm of his heart.

Hypersensitive, he hears her sigh before she lets it out.

"What's wrong?" he whispers, making sure his voice doesn't crack.

She smiles at him before shaking her head. "Nothing. Which I guess  _is_  the problem," she adds, and he can't help but smile at her inability to just  _relax_.

"I realize we have nothing to do now, no clues to follow or enemies to avoid, but I'd rather enjoy it, wouldn't you?" His voice is chiding yet teasing, and she giggles.

"I wish I could, but all this  _calm_  – the storm can't be far behind." He chooses to ignore her wisdom for the moment, instead focusing on the way her eyes dart quickly between his own and the floor, the way her hair grazes her back, the way her lips curl and twist. He's not as subtle as usual for she twirls a lock of hair nervously, "what? Do I have toothpaste on my mouth?"

Fabian laughs at her nervousness and self-consciousness. "No, you're just really pretty sitting on my bed, in the moonlight, itching for something to do." The words escape him without his usual Fabian-censor and she notices.

Raising an eyebrow, her lips curl. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Oh – um, yeah," he stutters, but he decides that this could be the perfect moment. Moonlight, silence, and them. "I think you're gorgeous, actually."

"Oh."

"Um – Nina." Bravery runs through his veins, packed with adrenaline and possibilities and hope. "What are you doing Friday night?"

Nina studies him carefully for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, though there's an air of anticipation to her expressions. "Hopefully hanging out with you?" Her statement is more of a question and Fabian finds himself laughing in her presence once again.

"Hopefully," he responds. "Do you want to see that new sci-fi movie with me?"

Nina's all grins and bounces when she nods ecstatically. Fabian grabs her into a hug without second thought, his insides screaming in glee, celebrating a victory long-time coming.

When he pulls back, there's a heartbeat. The meeting of brown and brown electrifies, pregnant with tension and security. His lips and hers suddenly intertwine, sparks exciting his every nerve, and every thought focuses on his hands on her cheek and waist, all his attention on the way her lips dance with his.

They break apart, their noses touching and foreheads resting on each other, their grins splitting their faces. Fabian feels nothing but pure  _happiness_  in that moment, that he forgets everything else when his lips leave a quick kiss on her nose before glancing at the clock.

"You better get to bed before Mick comes back," he says before frowning. "Where did he go, anyway?"

Nina shrugs. "No idea – Amber wasn't in bed either. Actually, I think I saw Patricia in the hall when I was leaving."

"Odd," he says. He stands, offering a hand but she takes his arm, intertwined and connected. He walks her to the foyer, their whispers echoing against the walls. "'Night."

She smiles again and bends forward to kiss his cheek. "Looking forward to Friday." Her grin widens when he stutters at her wink. "'Night, Fabian."

Fabian watches her naked feet tip-toe across the foyer and up the stairs, admiring the way she seems to glow wherever she travels. Mentally chiding himself for being such a girl, he returns to his room, but his lips remain turned upwards the entire time.


	5. two hundred letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moved on, with or without her. (Amber, Jerome)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-"House of Pursuits", pre-"House of Yesterday"

Her stomach ached and her mascara coated her cheeks, creating a mask of hurt and betrayal. Tears wouldn't stop falling, rivers of black on her face and in her heart. She hated crying; her makeup messed up, her voice sounded horse, and she looked like something out of a trashy tabloid.

She wasn't sure what was worse – her desire to curl under the sheets and never come out or her "friends'" abandonment in her time of need. They had  _laughed_. She understood Alfie laughing – he hung onto Jerome like a lost puppy, rarely having moments of independent genius. But  _Patricia and Fabian_  had laughed. They laughed and ignored her cries of embarrassment.

She had been too busy tearing down the incriminating evidence to notice how Nina reacted.

Sniffles tickled her nose, the edges of her eyelids watering. Amber was supposed to be perfect; acne, chubby cheeks, and  _imperfection_  were not allowed. But the tangible  _proof_  of her flawed self, tacked and pasted for public viewing, caused her stomach to clench in dread. She wanted to run away, let her tiny feet carry her far away from laughter and elections and so-called  _friends_.

Her friends hadn't supported her with her campaign, ditching her for the Sibuna club  _she_  created. Her friends were carrying on with their regularly scheduled lives, the memory of her absolutely  _horror_  fraying away as they traveled hallways and solved mysteries. Life moved on, with or without her.

Meanwhile, shivers ran up her shine, the water that filled her eyes slowly drying, but hiccups rising within her throat.  _I hate this. I really hate this. I really hate_ him.

It was funny – she blamed Jerome for everything, of course. She hated him and his cocky attitude and his  _I'm-cooler-and-funnier-and-perfecter-than-you_ way of life. But at the moment, she wasn't  _upset_  with him. She just hated him in a rage so quiet; it simmered smoothly yet harshly, waiting. And waiting.

He knocked on her door that night, after Nina had disappeared with Fabian and Patricia, sympathy and  _pity_  in her eyes. (Amber ignored her. She wasn't a fan of  _pity_.) The sharp raps against the door didn't phase her. Her knees tucked into her chest and her eyes awake but struggling not to water again, Amber softly answered, "come in, Jerome."

If he was surprised that she knew who visited her that night, his face betrayed no such thought. His normally bright eyes seemed solemn to Amber, and instantly she knew – he'd talked to Mara.  _Or been talked to, since it doesn't seem like he'd go looking for her._  Unlike every other person she knew, Jerome didn't bother studying the floor, his feet, anywhere other than her face. He stared at her, his eyes boring into hers. Blue and hazel battled, neither lips' moving, only the sound of their breathing filling the heavy silence.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. The silence broke, and Amber blinked. "I'm sorry I put up those pictures of you. I'm sorry I was jealous of Mick and took it out on you, trying to impress Mara." His words tumbled out of his mouth, a few moments lag between his brain and his speech. "I'm just – sorry."

Amber looked at him, considering the eyes that never left hers, the lip bitten in nervousness, the twitching hands. She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, but kept silent for a good while. She wasn't sure if she meant to toy with him, leave him in some suspense, or if she was – for once – deliberating her words before she spoke them. After fifteen breaths, she finally responded.

"You like Mara?"

Jerome frowned. "I never said that."

"You didn't need to," she said. Her tone remained serious, although she wanted to burst out laughing at his stupidity. "The 'I was jealous of Mick' and 'trying to impress Mara' parts make it pretty obvious."

Jerome shrugged, choosing not to respond.

"Funny how that works. How the ones you love, will always love, have other people. And so you hate them for it." Amber sighed. "Apology accepted, Jerome."

When she decided to forgive Jerome, she hadn't anticipated him to be overwhelmed with joy or gratitude. At his wide eyes and raised eyebrows, his surprise greeted her instead, as expected.

"That's it? Forgiven, just like that?" he asked.

"Just like that," she repeated, laying back down on her bed, head on the pillow and legs still curled in front of her. "But if you don't mind, I want to be alone right now."

"Uh – yeah – right," Jerome said as he stepped towards the door. His feet teased the line between room and hallway before he stepped back onto the carpet for a moment. "Amber – _why_?"

She didn't need him to explain. "Because you're exercising passion over restraint. Because you're a goofball; pranks and scheming are in your nature and you'll never change. But maybe you'll be tamed and under control. Maybe you won't go to extremes anymore. Maybe you'll take advantage of your second chance." Her voice sounded foreign to him, she knew, two hundred letters of a new language, unfamiliar and  _odd_. His skeptical face just nodded once before stepping out into the hallway and disappearing, but not before speaking once more.

"Thank you for believing in me." His voice echoed against the mysterious walls, the vibrations settling in her eardrums, a message of gratitude and respect pulsing within her.

Amber smiled into her pillow.  _Hope_.  _That should be my campaign promise._


	6. a gray and gold headstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight, there's just simplicity. (Mick, Mick/Amber)

The bass pounds against the floor. The walls confide you in, stretching to capture and store the hundreds of teenage bodies dancing across the floors.

You're dancing. You usually don't like to dance, but tonight, you're adventurous. It's only on spontaneity and coercion you're here at all, a few well-chosen words from teammates and hot girls.  _AmberAmberAmber_ , your mind chants, but you push the name and the girl away. She doesn't want you, you're a jerk, remember?

You've lost your sweatshirt in the crowd, the sweat dripping down your arms and drenching your shirt. But you don't care because tonight it's you, the music, and nothing else. There's no stiff competition, no failing grades, no mixed messages. Tonight, there's just simplicity.

You know the girl dancing beside you likes you. She likes you more than a friend and she's trying to squeeze up against you, stifling the bubble of fresh grass and giddy laughs and home-cooked pies. Her little brown eyes plea desperately, wanting touch, affection, love. But you can't offer any of that – you may not be taken on Facebook, but an angel sits on your heart, protecting and alluring. When you step away from the corner, you head outside, towards freedom and oxygen. The winter breeze greets you, your hair flying and the sweat that glistens across your forehead drying momentarily. There are others around you, the stench of vomit and alcohol and musk hidden in the natural air. The boy who sits in front of you in History nauseates in the bushes, the couple from Chemistry giggle behind a tree, two teammates struggle to hide their mischievous smirks.

You ignore your surroundings, oblivious to others, concentrating on the grass under your now-bare-feet, the dew tickling your arc. Your feet carry you without attention, and you find yourself facing Robbie McDonnell. Images of stuffed lockers and grabbed papers bombard you, the familiar clench in your stomach strengthening. You direct your eyes towards the quartered moon, glimmering across the pool. You can hear a sigh against the background of pop lyrics and the hurried footsteps of scurrying prey. But you aren't the predator, never were and never can be. You want to be the hunter, witty and suave; you want to be the defender, honorable and heroic. But you're a conformist and a follower; you want to belong, you want to impress your teammates, your peers,  _her._ So you let McDonnell run away, lost apologies dying on your tongue.

You let yourself breathe peacefully for five minutes before returning to the jungle of bodies and music and sweat. You shine those pearly whites when Jason Reed fist bumps you, you laugh loudly when Donavon Summers salutes you, you wink at Marissa Newman when she giggles and twirls her bangs around a finger. You traverse the throngs of students, all smiles and laughs and winks, your heart halfway between disgust and pride. You want nothing more than to return to Anubis House, roll your eyes at Jerome and Alfie, laugh with Fabian and Mara and Joy and Patricia, and talk about nothings with Amber. But you also want to play football, play rugby, play  _sports_  and you need your teammates to like you, want you, need you. You need the class to like you, to want you as their "hottest guy" and "most popular."

You need to be popular and liked, and you'll betray your heart if you have to.

So you continue to bounce to the latest redone, remixed classic, autotune masking the singer's lack of talent. You lay flowers on a gold and gray headstone, marking the death of Mick Campbell, the nobody. You're reborn that day, as Mick Campbell, the popular guy. You're Mick  _freaking_  Campbell and everyone knows it.

You hope it'll all be worth it in the end.


	7. just innocent kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there's Fabian. (Fabian/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to: "if Nina didn't exist, who would you pair Fabian with?"

When she decides to sign up for astronomy, she expects to study celestial bodies, orbital patterns, and planetary environments. She expects facts, figures, and some numbers. But as the course progress, she's faced with colors and swirls and constellations. There are abstract concepts about alien life and philosophical questions regarding the scope of the universe. There are questions without answers and problems without solutions. There's everything Mara hoped to learn, but so much more.

And then there's Fabian.

The House of Anubis is large – it houses eight students and two caretakers; it houses drama and mysteries. But the confiding dwelling suffocates and limits, large spaces stuffed with undiscovered secrets and corners edged with unsolved puzzles. A whisper bounces off walls, echoes through rooms; even the quietest of conversations pierce all the residents. But despite her history in the house, she can count the number of times she's spent time alone with Fabian.

It's a Wednesday and it's a night lab. The clouds have retired for the night; glitter reflects across the deep, black sky. Mara studies the patterns, outlines the constellations, spots the planets. The vast space between her and the stars carries a calm breeze as she sketches what little her eyes can behold. Her feet sit in front of her, balancing atop the roof's slope.

Beside her, Fabian bits his lip endearingly. His fingers shiver around his pencil, the nighttime cool sending goose bumps across his exposed skin. Mara glances at him, a furtive look in the corner of her eye, wetting her lips. His sheet is covered in dots and lines; they dance across the page in incomprehensible shapes, creating a universe seemingly dissimilar from the one Mara draws and studies.

The frown on her lips contrasts with the shine in his eyes; stillness surrounds them, the hush of a sleeping world blanketing them from reality. A gust of air flies towards them, and unconsciously Mara scoots closer to Fabian.

He notices the decrease in distance between them fairly quickly. "Cold?" he asks, his voice soft and barely a whisper, unwilling to break the unspoken bond between midnight and silence.

"Kind of," she answers gently. He grabs his discarded jacket from behind him and drapes in across Mara's shoulders. She smiles graciously. "Thanks."

Fabian shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes reverting back to his assignment, darting between sky and sheet. Mara's teeth graze her lip, an urge to confide and speak filling her. But a glimmering star grabs her attention and she spends the next few moments detailing its indefinite form.

The shifting of papers; the sigh of disappointment; then: "Mara?"

Her eyes lift and meet his, brown on brown; yellow twinkles in time with the white flecks around them. A moment passes, and it's just the stars, the silence, and the sensuality.

His lips curl upward as his teeth bite down lightly. "Wow."

"What?" Some unfamiliar warmth spreads to her heart as her face heats up. His eyes stare adoringly, never leaving her face; she know she's blushing, blood slightly tinting her chocolate skin.

"You look really pretty right now," he says quietly. Her eyes shift down in embarrassment and he only chuckles nervously. "I'm sorry, that was probably uncalled for – "

"No, it's okay," she says, shaking her head quickly. "It was sweet."

She's given no response as he nervously scratches his head, pencil back upright. Her finger twirls the edges of her hair, curling locks into tiny spirals.

She watches a single light, staring back at her firmly, twinkling. The star laughs brightly, her voice carrying a melody long-forgotten and soothing. She giggles, saying  _he's cute; you should say something_. The voice nags at awareness, familiar in some ways while unrecognizable in others. Mara's gaze shifts from the white on black to Fabian, whose pencil has stopped scratching.

"What's your favorite song?"

The question leaves her lips unannounced and unplanned. But spontaneity desires to be utilized and Mara embraces it. Fabian raises an eyebrow at the unexpected question, but nods thoughtfully, answering in stride. "At the moment or of all time?"

"Either."

Fabian pauses. "At the moment –  _Rocketeer_  by the Far East Movement, honestly," he says, a little laugh coloring his tone.

Mara smiles in return. "I love that song," she quickly continues. "I've heard some covers of it too – some not so good, others amazing."

"Really?" he asks, his interest genuine and eliciting sparks in her stomach. "Could you link me to some?"

"Sure," she replies, surprised at his intrigue. "I didn't realize you were into covers and stuff."

"Yeah," says Fabian. "I love my metal and rock, but every now and then I need to listen to a ballad or two."

Mara laughs, golden lights flickering in a cerulean landscape. "I completely understand."

"Do you now?" Fabian's curious and imploring. "I thought you were by-the-book-Mara."

Mara rolls her eyes, angled ellipses with a tilted frown. "Everyone thinks that. But I'm  _not_. I can be spontaneous!"

"I believe you," he laughs, "don't fall off now!" He grabs her wrist when she starts to slip down the incline, but immediately lets go when the ignition sparks. "Careful."

"Thanks," she murmurs, her frown directed at her knees.

"Anytime," he says, still smiling; always smiling.

Mara shakes her head, eyes shining. "No, not just for that – for believing me."

"Oh," he says, glancing downward and struggling to prevent reddening. "Um – you're welcome."

Mara shifts; Fabian can see her profile but little else, their papers having floated behind them and nearer to the window. Silently, she rests on her back, knees still bent but fingers pointed to the sky.

She mouths words that Fabian barely recognizes as names. Her finger outlines figures and shapes, creatures and people. He stares at her for a while, watching as she discovers unnamed patterns. But her finger pauses in the air, aimlessly searching, and Fabian quickly leans back and joins her.

His shoulder's touching hers and she's hyperaware of it. His right hand sketches a bear while her left draws its crown, skin accidentally on-purpose grazing skin. She giggles when he starts finding inappropriate images and he groans when she begins seeing numbers. But their lips remain ever turned upwards.

They switch hands; his left grabs her right while tracing a haphazard unicorn, but her unused finger carcasses his. Boldness and fire overtake her hand; she doesn't let herself think too much, other than a wayward thought that his hand remains warm around hers despite the frigidity. Their arms fall away, back to their sides, and Mara sighs into the breeze.

Tranquility hovers over them, protecting and seeking. So much distance between them emotionally, so unfamiliar with the one beside them, their pinkies intertwine. Subtle contact, but Mara feels the warm spread from one side to the other. Comfortable and at peace, she allows the world beneath her to fall away; there's just the vast expanse of  _nothingness_  before her. By her side, Fabian hums under his breath, a soft melody of mere rhythm. Mara turns her head his way for a moment to smile; he returns it, his gaze never leaving the glittering lights.

He and she lay on the roof, studying the darkened sky; nature around them, they were just two innocent kids, stargazing with interlocked pinkies, seeking to understand the unsolvable ambiguity before them.

Mara smiles, expectations forgotten and reality embraced.

 


	8. the devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But she continues to come back to him, the positive to his negative, magnetized and attracted. (Patricia, Jerome/Patricia)

She knows she's stupid.

She knows she's crazy.

She knows it's wrong.

But she continues to come back to him, the positive to his negative, magnetized and attracted. There's a string connecting them, binding him to her, her to him, and she can't break it, no matter how strongly her mind  _screams_  to do so.

She's against the wall. The empty classroom isn't as isolated as she would have liked, but reason's trashed on the floor as passion floods her veins, exciting every nerve. One arm pins her against the wall, while the other's hand explores her hair and neck. Her fingers grip his shirt, the thumb grazing against semi-undone buttons. His shirt's soft beneath her skin, but the warmth of his body augments the heat shooting through her.

His lips have left her lips; they're traveling down her neck, the tips of blonde hair tickling against her bare cheek. Suddenly cold, she pulls his face back to hers, attacking lips with lips. The little voice screams  _this is stupid_  repeatedly – soundly increasingly familiar – but she ignores it.  _"Conscience, turned tyrant, held passion by the throat." Charlotte Bronte had it all wrong._  Fire seizes her heart, clenching and squeezing, sending dopamine coursing through her blood. The only icy chill that reaches her is his nose in her hair, the fragrance of lemons and oranges causing a twitch of his lips.

" _You smell so good,"_  he whispers, his voice soft and ever seductive. She hushes him, tongue across teeth, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. He's enjoying this; he's enjoying  _her_  and she doesn't mind that her heart speeds up.

He breathes heavily onto her shoulder, a finger caressing bare skin on her waist.  _This is stupid_ , yells her mind, berating and upbraiding. But Patricia's never been one to listen to logic over emotion; the fire spreads and takes over, burning across her skin as he sketches circles onto her hip.  _Stop it, stop it, stop it._  Her body craves more; their chests are so close, their limbs so intertwined, their lips so fervent.

A shadow hovers over them, tauntingly and judgingly, but Patricia ignores it. His kisses and touch excite pleasure in every moment; the nagging voice eventually dulls to a whisper, poking and itching. The voice – thoughts disregarded and advise unwelcome – struggles behind the cage of fire, but soon the ashes fly away.

An unconscious moan escapes her open lips when his teeth graze her neck. Her stomach churns, the shadow grows darker, and then Jerome's standing away, staring.

She stares back at him; his pupils remain dilated and his breathing remains labored, but his red lips and twitching fingers reveal all to her. The angel screams again and again, but the devil always wins; Patricia closes the distance between them quickly, disregarding the growing whispers within.


	9. sex and drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She intrudes on their stay that day, visits in their abode, hoping for rest – a moment of pause.

There's a moment of pause.

Swirls of abstract colors surround her, highlighting her glowing skin and flowing locks. Flashes of light and dark, black and white, twirl before her; patterns of gold and silver, bronze and steel, stretch in the air around her. Nothing summons her, nothing attracts her, nothing compels her. She just  _is_.

Calm remains in the pigmented ash. Glitter settles in the wind, falling to the earth peacefully and slowly. Silence reigns supreme, commanding the squadrons of harmony and melody. While visuals fade, the acoustics capture the screen, a slideshow of genres and rhythms.

The birds remain hushed and still, neither trembling nor eager, neither alert nor conscious. They observe in tranquility and without motive, just sitting – doing nothing. The crickets chirp subtly, enhancing the off-beats of silence in the air and mirroring the churns of butterflies in her stomach. The frogs croak in an easy disharmony, in a valued confusion; their voice clash against the crack of the fire and the howl of the wind and the crash of the sea.

A deep breath escapes her lungs, drawing in blends of cinnamon and honey and jasmine. The vanilla musk reaches her as rabbits hop beside her feet and a cardinal soars above. Life continues around her, embracing her, welcoming her. She intrudes on their stay that day, visits in their abode, hoping for rest – a moment of pause.

The sun straddles the border between risen and set, orange and full. She squints into the distance, the white halo burning her eyes. Shivers tease her skin as the breeze giggles against her and warmth engulfs her blood as the intermittent glares of heat laugh around her. Blades of grass tickle her bare feet, dew seeping between her toes and dirt crusting underneath her heels. She smiles, heart constricting and expanding in rhythm, fingers combing hair. Her eyes turn upward again, as the blue turns further darker, an indigo tinted with stark white.

The first tear falls when she first spots the moon. It's large and big, looming and bright; the salt water of the seas gathers in her eyes. She can't comprehend  _why_ – reason dictates the uselessness, the stupidity; logic explicates the faultiness, the needlessness. But the tears fall, each drop soaking her cheeks and grabbing her heart.

The moon shines completely when she finally sits on the lonely bench, rusty metal itching the denim. A whiff of wind sends her hair flying; tears dry momentarily on her face and she sighs deeply at the vast expanse before her – roads crisscrossed and unexplored, strangers varied and unknown. She hugs her knees to her chest and tips of hair tickle her face as they sway with her movements. Eyes remain glued to outline of trees and diagrams and yellow and gold and hands and flowers and glitter and light. The tears are gone now, ignored but not forgotten, stored but not eliminated.

She grins when an owl hoots and a far-off remnant of bass thumps. She ties back her hair, wipes her cheeks, and picks up the newly administered folder of paper – paper so thin and fragile, so meaningful and heavy. She walks off the graveled path, following patches of dirt and grass, squished flowers and seeds crunching beneath her feet. She lifts her chin into the air and winks at the glimmering stars, blinking at their dances of joy.

She smiles.

There's a moment of pause.

Her foot crushes the twig with a snap, and a whisper of a sniffle mixes in with the sound of her triumphant heartbeat.

 


	10. diamond rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it all makes him smile and makes his heart clench with the anticipation of sharing the moment with her. (Fabian, Fabian/Nina)

The sun is still beaming against the surrounding woods despite the late hour – almost eight, Fabian notes, and it's still sunny – and he can't help but smile. The sun, the warmth, the feeling of his fingers grazing guitar strings: it all makes him smile and makes his heart clench with the anticipation of sharing the moment with her.

He strums a melody composed over the summer; he hums the lyrics he'd penned after months of creativity deprivation. The song he softly sings fills the room with emotion, unsung harmonies added by air and the particles of dust that swirl around Mick's bedpost. He reaches the bridge of the song when his fingers slip, his ring finger hitting the wrong string, and Fabian frowns. He starts the measure over, retracing the chords and the lyrics that fit so well together. Each note flows, in time and with rhythm, until Fabian lightly strums a final time. His smile has returned as he stares at his guitar, imagining her hand caressing the side of his instrument.

He closes his eyes. The summer sun is slowly turning into one of autumn, but the air is still warm and the trees are still green. But his books lay stacked on his desk, ready to be opened, and the impeding start of school brings with it one consolation: she'll return.

He can see her sitting on his bed, smiling brightly but curiously, waiting for him to reveal his surprise. She'd ask him what he was doing when he kneels in front of her, alarmed, but he'd whip out his guitar; he'd start strumming and she'd giggle. She'd giggle and it'd sound like a thousand wind chimes singing with the birds in the morning breeze. He'd strum faster and start singing and she'd grow quiet, listening, and his voice would crack and he'd stutter, but she'd smile warmly and his heart would soar. He'd grow louder and stronger until he reached the bridge; he'd wait hesitantly at the start of the bridge, knowing that for him, songs are diamond rings. But then he'd see her deep brown eyes and know that his heart pounding faster means something. He'd grin and sing: he'd sing the bridge and repeat the chorus, and finish his song for her. She'd laugh and tell him it's amazing and he'd humbly tell her it was nothing. But he'd be grinning proudly and she'd be happy and they'd kiss.

And it would be perfect.

Fabian's eyes open; they're bright and glistening, but his lips are unabashedly turned upwards. He lays his guitar down on his bed and heads over to the door, waiting for the reunion he'd been anticipating since he'd left her at the end of the previous year. He just can't wait to see her smile again.


	11. grass and mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's outlining a series of twinkling lights, twisting his fingers into figures and shapes but Joy has no idea what he's drawing. (Mick/Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Joy and Mick, stargazing, digimon themed? from anonymous.

Her finger traces shapes in the sky, outlining a small dog. "Canis Minor," says Joy, her other hand intertwined with his.

"Small dog?" says Mick with a small frown, tilting his head so that blonde strands mingle with her brown ones. She scoots closer to him, ignoring the way her shirt rides up so blades of grass tickle her skin, letting her arm fall on his chest.

"Actually," she says, the corners of lips curling upwards, "it's lesser dog. But close enough." His laugh is a loud bark, breaking the silence of the night around them, but she has to smile because he's  _adorable_.

Mick glances downwards and catches her smile. "What?"

"You're cute."

"Yeah I know," says Mick, the grin on his face betraying his seriousness and Joy rolls her eyes. "Hey, is that something?"

He's outlining a series of twinkling lights, twisting his fingers into figures and shapes but Joy has no idea what he's drawing. "Um - what exactly am I looking at?"

"It's - a dinosaur! See," he says, grabbing the hand that rests on his chest and joining their index fingers together, "there's the feet and body and that - that's the tail and over there is the head."

If she's honest, Joy's not paying attention to the dinosaur or his words because Mick's smile shines brighter than all the constellations and her skin is warm where he touches her. "I see it," she says softly, her eyes locked upon the corner of his mouth.

"Reminds me of this show - not Pokemon - "

But her lips are on his and he tastes of generic chap-stick and smells like wet grass and mud and his hair is so  _soft._ It takes a moment, but his hand slides up her side and through her hair; his thumb caresses her check when her lips leave his for a moment. Mick smiles, forehead against her own, before raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm, I like it when you do that."

"I like it when I do that too," says Joy, laughing. She twirls a lock of his hair over her finger, her elbow in the mud and his arm around her waist again. Leaning over again, she bypasses his lips for his ear; her breath is warm and her whisper low and her stomach clenches with heat. "And I'm pretty sure you were thinking about Digimon."

Mick can't say anything after that.


	12. ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie kicks up the ball with the top of his foot and Joy catches it with both hands. (Eddie, Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Joy and Eddie and ball from anonymous.

The ball is red and filled with tiny beads and it hits his hand with a thud. "So they kidnapped you?" Eddie tosses the ball back and Joy stretches before it flies over her head.

"Yeah," she says, bringing her arms down, letting the red ball flicker between hands. Joy bites her lip, eyes focused on the green stitches, threading the ball together. "They thought I was the Chosen One, and well," she says, shrugging, "I wasn't." After one more toss in her left hand, she lets the ball fly back towards Eddie.

"It was Nina." Eddie brings his feet back to the floor after catching the ball, stretching his arms around the back of the couch instead, flicking his wrist to throw and catch the ball in his right hand. Joy's elbows rest on her knees now as she sits crossed legged in the armchair. "But how did no one notice - "

"Patricia did," she says, her eyes on the ball and his hands and not his face. "She kept looking and questioning and that's how she joined Sibuna - she figured out that whatever Nina and the others had stumbled into was connected somehow."

Eddie lobs the ball over to her and after he hears her catch it, he sighs loudly. "Wow. So no one else cared that you basically disappeared?"

"I mean," says Joy, leaning back again, the ball balanced between loose fingers, "they thought my parents had just taken me out of school that term. Nothing sinister."

"Still," says Eddie. Joy rolls her eyes and chucks the ball at his face and he catches it one-handed, his entire palm wrapped around the fabric. The beans squish in his grip and for a moment he imagines that they pop out of the skin and scatter across the floor. "Whatever the reason, it sucks."

Joy says nothing, her silence more than enough agreement, instead watching Eddie attempt to twirl the ball on a finger. When he fails and the ball clatters to the floor, Joy exhales. "Yeah I guess it does."

Eddie kicks up the ball with the top of his foot and Joy catches it with both hands.


	13. hazelnut white mocha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So how have you been?" (Mick, Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joy and Mick coffee shop from anonymous

Mick blows into his cup of hazelnut white mocha, wisps of steam hitting his face. His hands wrap around the cup, allowing the heat to seep through the paper and to his hands, slowly warming his numb fingers. He's in the process of testing a sip when Joy sits down across from him; distracted by her stripping off her bulky coat, he takes a bigger gulp than intended and burns his tongue.

"Shit," he swears, almost dropping his cup, sucking in hair. Joy raises an eyebrow and Mick is too busy calming his aching mouth to notice her biting her wriggling lips. He notices her grinning much too widely once he can breath normally again though. "Shut up."

"Didn't say anything," she says, swirling her peppermint hot chocolate before removing her gloves. "So how have you been?"

Mick shrugs, blowing harder into his cup, avoiding looking at her eyes and her hands. "Okay, I guess. Dad still wants me to take this business internship in the states."

"Hey, maybe you'll run into Nina or Eddie or something," says Joy, smiling as she easily sips her hot chocolate. Mick tries not to roll his eyes; of course she doesn't burn her tongue.

"The US is huge, I highly doubt I'll just magically run into them," he says. He hesitantly tries for another sip; this time the coffee runs down his throat with ease, soothing rather than scalding. "What about you? How's Patricia doing?"

Joy rolls her eyes. "Patricia's… Patricia. Still leaves dirty dishes in the sink and can't seem to remember to pay rent. I don't know why I agreed to be flatmates with her."

"Because she's your best mate?"

"Maybe," says Joy with a small laugh. "But yeah, she's fine. All set to take the bar soon - she's fine."

"And you?"

Joy pauses, studying her cup, watching the whipped cream swirl around. The ring adorning her left ring finger glitters under the soft lighting of the cafe; she smiles. "I'm good. Really good."

Mick leans back, swallowing a larger gulp of coffee. "That's great, Joy," he says, his eyes forced bright and his lips twitching upward. But despite the warmth spreading through him as the caffeine is absorbed into his system, he still feels cold.

Joy grins, a hand rubbing against her large stomach, and Mick shivers.


	14. while dinosaurs attacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even though there's space between her back and his arm, he still feels like he's embracing her. (Jerome/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Jerome and Mara, pizza from maraclarkes.

Her head leans against his shoulder, so her hair tickles his arm, wrapped around her waist; his other hand is reaching for a slice of pizza and as he brings it to his mouth, Jerome struggles not to drip cheese or sauce on his shirt - or on Mara, who's eyes are closed and breathing light.

"Be careful, you might burn your tongue."

Jerome almost drops the pizza on her face, but Mara squirms and sits up. His other hand catches the falling mushroom before it can stain the couch - Trudy would kill him - and he quickly stuffs his face with pizza.

He drops the slice back onto his plate when his fingers start tingling. "Hot, hot," he says, his mouth half-opened. Mara giggles, rubbing her eyes, staring at Jerome with a small smile.

"Who made it?" she asks, sufficiently awakened, reaching for a slice of her own. "Trudy or - "

"I think Fabian helped," says Jerome, picking up his pizza again. "It's pretty good."

"Mmm." Mara's eyes fluttered close for a moment and Jerome smirks at her moan. "Really good." Three more bites and more than half the slice is gone.

Jerome quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth still upturned. "Someone's hungry."

"Starving," says Mara quickly in between bites. "Had to skip lunch to work on student council stuff."

Jerome rests his feet on the coffee table, sinking into the sofa. His arm crawls up behind her, and even though there's space between her back and his arm, he still feels like he's embracing her. "Isn't there something against skipping meals?"

Mara rolls her eyes, only crust left between her fingers, but she leans back as she slows down her eating. "Yeah, if you do it regularly." She sighs when his hand wraps around her upper arm, his thumb drawing circles on her skin. "How much homework do you have?"

"The better question might be how much homework am I planning on doing tonight," says Jerome, his mouth in her hair. His breath is warm on her scalp, sending shivers down her spine.

"Jerome - "

"How about this," he says. "We can watch one movie - how about Jurassic Park? - and then we do homework. Sound good?"

Mara doesn't need to verbalize her agreement because she's already grinning widely, liking the prospect of staying like this for at least another hour and a half. "Sounds good."

So they eat pizza while dinosaurs attack, Jerome's muttered commentary sending her into a fit of giggles; she barely notices when Nedry is attacked by the raptors because Jerome's still breathing in her ear.


	15. the rag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence is as thick as the rag in her hand. (Nina, Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Joy and Nina, apologize from anonymous

The silence is as thick as the rag in her hand; Nina forces her hand to continue its pattern across the table, the each streak of water forming a line on a sheet of paper. Her attention is so wrapped up in not missing an inch that when her wrist collides with the glass, Nina jumps.

The water splashes against the floor, but it's Joy Nina looks at; Joy's blinking and staring at the glass in her hand, reflexes faster than the realization that her blouse is wet and her chest cold.

"Oh, Joy, I'm so sorry!" says Nina, her eyes wide. She quickly scrambles to find a napkin in the center of the table, handing it to the silent Joy, who just smiles.

"It's okay, Nina," says Joy, her voice light. "It's just water."

"I know, but - " Nina stops, her heart constricting in her chest as she watches Joy stare at her, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted.

"What?" says Joy as the napkin wipes across her shirt. "Really, it's okay."

"I know, I'm just - I'm sorry, Joy."

Joy frowns, confusion lining each wrinkle and reflecting in her eyes. But she seems to understand because after a moment, she nods. Her eyes flicker up and when Nina tries to look away, Joy shakes her head. "Hey - Nina." Nina looks back at the eyes that she may have unintentionally replaced; it's difficult to breathe. Joy leans forward, her hand still grasping the cup firmly. "I'm sorry too."

"You have nothing - "

"I'm sorry, Nina, and you better just accept that."

Nina's lips quirk upwards because Joy is still staring straight at her and something eases and suddenly Nina can laugh. "Okay," she says. "Okay."

Joy wipes down the other half of the table, and although the lines from the water streaks aren't perfectly straight, they meet in the middle anyway.


	16. circular solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wonders why everything changed and he wonders why everyone else is suddenly okay with it. (Fabian, Mara, Fabian/Nina)

Fabian likes staring at his guitar at night, studying the tight strings and wooden carvings. Sometimes he glances over at the bed across from his – now Eddie's, once Mick's, still covered in dirty clothes and scattered papers and completely unmade – and wonders why the sun always seems to brighten the other side and not his. He wonders why Mick doesn't throw a ball at him, or Amber squeal from the hallway, or Patricia scream at Alfie, or Jerome laugh before Mara hits him. He wonders why Nina doesn't meet his eyes and smile, why there's a sinking in his heart, why images of Joy are painful instead of welcome.

He wonders why everything changed and he wonders why everyone else is suddenly okay with it.

When Mara knocks at his door, Fabian is running calloused fingers down the spine of his instrument, the smooth curves soothing his skin and stomach. He only looks up when she clears her throat.

"Fabian, hi," she says softly. Her hands grip a folder, clenched to her chest, her eyes flickering with worry. "Are you okay?"

Fabian realizes that his knees are digging into his chin and his hands shake as they caress his guitar. He freezes. "Um. Yeah, I'm fine," he says, stretching out and placing his guitar aside. The wood hits his phone and the loud clank echoes harshly against his hasty struggle to clear his face. "Something wrong?"

"No, I just had a question on the maths homework," says Mara with a small smile, her eyes dulled enough that he notices. Her feet drag across the carpet, her eyes fixed upon the paper in her arms.

Fabian frowns. "Are  _you_ okay, Mara? You seem – sad."

"Sad?" she says as her eyes widen. "I'm just – well, I'm concerned about you, Fabian. Ever since Nina – "

"I'm fine," says Fabian.  _Her_  name cuts and scars and  _burns_ so he knows Mara sees the flashing lights and boiling acid and gritting teeth. Mara raises an eyebrow and Fabian sighs. "Just – what's your question?"

Mara sits down beside him – more than six inches away, an awkward distance, he needs to learn to control his temper – before showing him the worksheet. "Number seven, with the integral. How am I supposed to do it when there aren't numbers?"

Letters and numbers and infinities swim around the paper as Fabian explains. "Well, basically, you find the integration and then that's it, that's the answer, except you have to add a constant."

When Mara bites her lip, her pencil rolling around her fingers, Fabian feels cooler, steadier. Mara's eraser hits the paper, snapping his eyes to the problem and not her face. "Oh, because the derivative of any constant is zero! So it wouldn't be in the integral."

Breathing is easier; Fabian nods. "Exactly. Not hard at all."

"Thanks Fabian," says Mara, twinkling eyes and warm smile. His fingers tingle and his heart peacefully beats on. Despite everything, Mara calms him.

"Anytime."

There's a moment then: she's smiling and he's peaceful and there's a paper with half-finished math problems between them. It reminds him of Before – of before Nina left, before Nina broke his heart, before Nina even entered his life. And somehow he realizes that while he misses Nina – her long hair tickling his cheek, her loud laugh in stark contrast to the quiet attic, her soft lips intertwined with his own – he misses being  _happy_. Circular solitude has embraced his heart, burning up and bleeding out, and in the dust he leaves only broken promises and ashes.

He misses Nina, but he also misses chuckling at Mick gorging on steak, rolling his eyes at Jerome throwing spaghetti in the air, whispering with Joy about Patricia's milk mustache.

Fabian misses his study dates with Mara.

"We should really study together again," he says just when she rises from his bed. "Like – "

"Before," says Mara, the corner of her lip quirking upwards into a tiny smirk. "Yeah, we should." Fabian grins; Mara hugs the folder and worksheet to her chest again as she steps towards the door. "Well, good luck with – " she cuts off, her fingers tightening on the papers in her hands.

"I'll be okay," he says instead and Mara tilts her head before nodding. She says nothing else, exiting the room, and Fabian stares at the empty space left behind.

When he picks up his guitar again, Fabian strums chords easily, hazy lyrics dancing on the tip of his tongue.


	17. anyone or anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some part of his sanity is tied to reality and KT and talking about Patricia. (Eddie, KT, Eddie/Patricia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU, post-"House of Hieroglyphs"

It's dark and hot and he wonders how much oxygen he's using up when he hugs his knees to his chest. KT's right beside him, shaking and shivering, sweat pooling on her forehead, and Eddie admires her for keeping quiet. He wants to scream and punch things and pull out his hair, but somehow he's managed to just clench his fists and bury his face in his knees. Anyone or anything could stumble through that door, freeing or capturing, and he's helpless and frustrated. But he's not alone and once again, he finds he appreciates that.

KT breaks first. "So why did you and Patricia break up anyway?"

His heart breaks too, glass pieces shattering the silence despite the softness in her tone and the low volume. Her voice cracks, harsh and jagged against the darkness, but he wants to answer –  _needs to answer_  – because some part of his sanity is tied to reality and KT and talking about Patricia. "She – she broke up with me."

"Lame," says KT, her whisper betraying the fear and sadness and pity. "She must have given you a reason."

Echoes vibrate through his head, each memory clashing violently with his present situation: her arms around his neck, her fingers running through his hair, her lips on his, warm breath on his nose, catching new breaths with a small smile creeping onto his face. But now hot darkness suffocates and the scratch of a heel across wood makes his heart clench and his lungs constrict. Whenever Eddie hears KT gasp, another part of him dies and more hope decays into ash.

Eddie tries to lean his head onto hers, her hair a cushion and a connection and anchor all at once. "Something about wanting to start the year of fresh. And concentrating on school."

"Bullshit."

For the first time in an hour, Eddie wants to laugh. He wants to throw back his head and hit it against the rock walls and let his eyes close and something other than fear and despair fill him. He thinks KT smiles – it's hard to tell in the pitch black, the only sliver of light from under the forbidden door – so he lets himself smile too. "Yeah," he says softly. "But it's what she wants and I have to respect that."

KT waits silently after that and at some point, as his head spins and his hands shake and everything feels  _hot_ , her fingers start to draw circles on the back of hand. There's something comforting about movement, about contact, so he lets her as his thoughts take over. While the drawings become intricate and morph, Eddie wonders about Patricia and home and fresh air and seeing the stars and the moon –

"That's it," he breathes, his hot breath tickling her scalp. Pulling away, KT shivers and she sounds like she's frowning.

"What?"

"Your key – you got it on you, right?" There's movement and rustling and cool metal hits his palm. "I bet there's a lock for it here – just like at Denby's – "

"Eddie," says KT, light reflecting in her bright eyes, "that's brilliant."

He wants to say something humble and modest and sincere, but instead he lets himself be smooth. "I'm not the Osirian for nothing."

Her giggle is freer and cooler, a pool of fresh water trickling down his spine. Deep breathes filling his chest, Eddie feels the walls and the low, wet ceiling. At some point their hands tumble over each other, her nails scratching his wrist, but their frantic search doesn't pause.

KT finds the metal crescent moon digging into her lower back. "Gimme the key!" He does and the wall opens, and they tumble out; wet grass tickles his face and he thinks he smells sewage. "It smells  _disgusting_ ," says KT, her grimace only half-hearted, her steady hands tightly gripped around the key. "Let's just – go."

Later, they stumble into Anubis House, out of breath and shaken; KT slips the key into her pocket and Eddie wonders how it just naturally fits into her palm.

"Hey," she says suddenly, her eyes a little narrowed and a small smile on her face. "Just because you respect someone and their decisions – it doesn't mean you have to like them." Eddie blinks and KT's smile morphs into a smirk. "It doesn't mean you can't do anything about it."

Eddie blinks again, his heart pounding harder and his hands stuffed into his pockets; KT nods once, still smirking, before stepping around him. "Good night, Eddie," she says. A small pat on his shoulder, reassuring and thankful and condescending all at once, and KT leaves Eddie with more hope and a faster beating heart than he should have.


	18. cutlery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something flashing and burning behind the dark pupils and it makes Joy's stomach flip. (Alfie/Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-"House of Sisters"

"Hey Joy?"

"Hm?" Knees curled up to her chest, her eyes follow lines of words. The friends are about to veer from the script and take a stand; the audience braces themselves, holding their breaths, anticipation rising in the air and voices growing louder and her eyes rush across the page, inhaling each sentence –

"How did you make up all your schoolwork last term?"

And all at once she's sucked out; Alfie's frowning, his eyes not quite meeting hers, and Joy doesn't wonder whether the heroes make it out alive. "What do you mean?" she asks slowly, the book falling to her lap as her legs stretch out. Somehow her feet avoid Alfie's legs, but he's still staring at her red and orange fuzzy socks. They clash violently with her red blouse – Amber's – but match perfectly fine with dark blue skinny jeans – hers – and Joy doesn't really find them all that exciting, so she raises an eyebrow.

"I mean," he says, rubbing the back of his neck, and Joy thinks he's blushing, "you missed an entire term of school – how did you make it all up?"

Her index finger rubs against new paper, blurring the ink upon the pages. Joy bites her lip. "I – my parents made sure I was keeping up. So did – Victor and Sweetie."

Alfie blinks, lips still pursed into a frown, but he finally looks at her. There's something flashing and burning behind the dark pupils and it makes Joy's stomach flip. "They made you study after kidnapping you?"

Joy rolls her eyes. "It wasn't as bad as it sounds. Yeah, I missed everyone – a lot – but if I'm honest – " she pauses, waits, and Alfie only raises an eyebrow so she continues: "it was a lot worse to came back." Her voice cracks on the final syllable and the echoes of a broken word fill the space between them.

Alfie scoots closer; her feet are on his lap now, his hand just below her knee, his thumb running between her kneecap. Like cutlery against her skin, the sparks caress her spine and she can't decide if it's heat or chill that wraps around her arms.

His eyes are hard and it scares her – no laughter, no sadness either, only seriousness and determination and some sort of  _fire_  – so she gulps. "You deserve the best, Joy," says Alfie. He might be whispering for all she knows, but she can't move and can't look away. Every word vibrates in her stomach. "You – lots of people like you, Joy. Lots of people like you for you and Jerome is a jerk, especially when he's upset."

Joy just stares. Realizing the positioning of his hand, Alfie slides across the sofa again, squished up against the armrest. Blinking away the sudden light that envelopes Alfie – shimmering, shining, reflecting gold on green – Joy lets herself smile. "Thanks Alfie. I – " she starts and she wants to say she appreciates it and she wants to believe him and maybe she's starting to and that lots of people like him too, but she doesn't: "thank you."

"You're welcome," says Alfie, straightening again as the silence falls away. His smile returns, brighter and warmer and Joy wonders if he realizes how much his happiness radiates. "So guess what Eddie gave me?"

Joy frowns; it's more out of confusion than surprise, because Alfie can't be serious for long and the familiar lightness is welcome. "What?"

And then she's wet and screaming because Alfie aims a water gun at her face and the water is  _cold_. "ALFIE LEWIS –  _YOU –_ "

"Are the best?" he says, his laughter the only reason she hasn't already lunged at him. But her narrowed eyes and clenched fists clue him in because he's gulping and standing up. "Right – well – I'll be – "

And Alfie runs, Joy runs after him, and when Jerome runs into them in the hallway, he just laughs.

(Joy doesn't realize until later that her new blouse is ruined, but somehow she's okay with that.)


	19. mourning dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a dull ache building in his stomach, stronger now that his mouth is shut and his mind is screaming (Alfie/Amber)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-"House of Unity", pre-"House of Tombs": Dedicated to millingtons (-sibunahouse)

Alfie likes the moments when Jerome's out of the room and Sibuna is lying low and all he has to deal with are his swirling thoughts and his stiff spine.

His phone feels heavy in his hand; holding on barely with his fingertips, Alfie twists and twirls the device in his hands, hoping it will vibrate or ring or at least flash with vibrant light. Instead, it remains silent and black, quiet and still, and when Alfie purposefully drops it onto his stomach, the  _thunk_  hurts more than it should.

There's a dull ache building in his stomach, stronger now that his mouth is shut and his mind is screaming; he misses blonde hair and naïve jokes and moments of brilliance and her bright laugh and her wide smiles.

Alfie misses her. He misses her  _so hard_  that he wonders if he's struggling to breathe because there's an uncomfortable weight on his stomach or because a part of him is broken now.

Fingers crushed around his phone, he almost throws in against the wall. But before he can release, the harsh echoes of his ringtone breaks the stifling silence and Alfie almost drops his phone again.

He finally answers without glancing at the screen. "Hello?"

"Alfie!" And suddenly his lungs are free and his eyes are bright and he sits up on his bed.

"Hey Amber!" he says, excitement easily leaking through his voice. "How are you?"

Amber laughs – glitter sprinkled across a  _welcome home_  card, sparkling like the sequins on the blouse she's probably wearing – and Alfie smiles as she speaks. "I'm great! Fashion school is amazing – everyone here is pretty nice. Not as fashionable or as cool as me, of course, but definitely up there."

"That's great," says Alfie, easily steadying his voice against the bittersweet acid that rises in his chest. "I'm really glad you like it there."

"It's wonderful, Alfie. I mean – " she says, pausing, and Alfie hears his heart beating in his chest, "I miss you all, so much. Especially Sibuna. Especially you."

He stays quiet, letting her words echo in his ears over and over again –  _especially you_ \- his eyes closed and the tension in the back of head slowly easing. But something's crawling and gnawing and Alfie knows he needs to address it soon. "Amber, I miss you too, but – "

Amber beats him to it. "Alfie – " she starts, and Alfie wonders if he's imagining the gathering hesitation and pain in her voice. "Alfie, I'm really glad you never gave up." He says nothing; he wants to but he doesn't, and he lets her finish because there's an understanding they've had lately, and maybe it can finally be at peace. "You werethe best, Alfie. And I'll never forget that."

And he thinks it sneaks up on him but he's not surprised. It's a gradual understanding, but now he knows and she knows. "You're going to be great, Amber," he says. "I know you will be."

"Thanks Alfie."

With awkward silence fallen, he imagines her now. She's probably decked in sequins and lace and frills, but with small smile and muted eyes: her outfit might dance, but her face is her mourning dress. Alfie sighs.

"If you ever need to talk – "

"I know."

A pause, a moment, a finality sinking in and Alfie wishes his thoughts would stand still so his heart wouldn't hurt so much. "I did it for you. Everything."

"I know."

More silence; Alfie wants to say lots things, but his throat is caught and something pulls in million different directions, so he doesn't.

"Bye Alfie," says Amber. He thinks her voice is sad, but there might be a sparkle of laughter glittering between it.

"Bye Amber."

The dial tone is loud in the silence. It keeps his hands steady and the emotion concentrated in his chest though, so he listens for a long time. Only when Jerome returns does he shut it off and lie back down. Alfie keeps the phone buried in his grip; thoughts still swirl and tumble, but the ache in his chest dulls slowly.

When he finally closes his eyes, Alfie realizes the phone doesn't feel so heavy anymore.


	20. kissing in the blue dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every new breath of pain and sorrow is another piece of his heart shattered across the floor. (Mick/Amber)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-series, AU

Usually, Amber  _dances_ ; maybe not with her feet or her body, but with her smile and laugh and the way she throws back her head. And in those moments, Mick wonders if it's creepy to just watch her be happy and feel happy himself, but then he remembers that  _she's his girlfriend_ so he shrugs away the concern ad just continues to admire her.

But now, she's curled up on the floor, a mess of tears and mascara and whimpers. Every new breath of pain and sorrow is another piece of his heart shattered across the floor.

"Amber?" he whispers. She squeezes herself smaller, almost willing to disappear, and Mick wastes no time sliding down beside her and wrapping his arms around her waist, hands easily stroking her hair. Her head falls to his shoulder without hesitation, and if she wasn't falling apart before him he might have taken pride in that. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says, her voicing cracking and any semblance of confidence masked under more sniffles. Mick tries not to snort – really, he does – but fails and Amber sighs into his shirt. "It's stupid."

"I bet it isn't." For once, Mick is glad he's used to Amber crying and falling apart – he's gotten good at comforting her and calming her down. But then she looks up at him and every thought of her eyes dull instead of  _singing_  seems stupid.

"I did it again."

Mick frowns. The bathroom tiles are cold and the distinct vanilla and lavender blend of air freshener is strong; but he's still confused. "What – "

It's not unusual for him to miss it. He misses a lot of things – like when he's talking too loud and the professor can hear him, or when he accidently insults Mara or Joy, or when Fabian is trying to get him to clean up his side of the room – but this is one thing he always regrets missing. Except now: now he notices Amber cradling her stomach, constantly rubbing her mouth, glancing over at the toilet. He notices and knows, so he guides her up and walks straight out of the bathroom.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice steadier now, but still soft.

"Trudy," says Mick. Amber stops walking, feet dug into floor, and Mick almost trips over nothing. "What – "

"Mick, no," she says. Her face is twisted in fear; her hand trembles in his. "I – I can't. I just need to – I need  _time_  – "

Mick glances around the – open, public – hallway and pulls Amber into her abandoned room. As the door shuts behind him, Mick lets his free hand stroke her cheek, a thumb along her hair. "Ambs, babe, I don't know what to do. I'm – I'm  _scared._ I don't – I don't like seeing you that way and Trudy could  _help_  if you'd let her – "

When she snaps her hand away and takes a step back, Mick feels the shadow settle over him. "I'm fine, Mick, it'll be okay. Let's just go downstairs and watch a movie because I totally don't want to do homework." Mick just stares and blinks, so Amber nods and grins widely. "Perfect! I'm going to go rinse out my mouth and I'll meet you there, okay, beau?" He finally closes his mouth when she kisses his cheek and skips out the door.

Mick follows her out; each step downstairs seems to bring him closer to the dark blue slowly worming its way through his stomach. Everything constricts in his chest – his heart  _hurts_  but it's the helplessness that has him almost punching the wall.

When Amber joins him, she's bright again; hair swaying across her green and yellow dress, Mick wonders why someone so special – so  _brilliant_  – can be reduced to a curled up mess in a matter of minutes.

Amber curls up against his side immediately,  _The Notebook_  already popped in and playing. Mick knows the plot and all the lines, of course, so he watches her instead. Although her skin is pale, her eyes are shining again, radiating with familiar happiness. But while her smile is yellow and white, he feels colorless next to her: his heart still beats in pain, each breath and swallow burning. Before the first scene is even finished, he knows he needs to selfishly absorb her color again.

"Amber?" he whispers into her hair. She glances at him with raised eyebrows and he has to smile. "I love you."

"Love you too, beau."

And when Mick kisses Amber, for a moment he wishes he hadn't; he thinks of her in the bathroom, sick and hurt, and he thinks of her crying and sniffling. They're kissing in the blue dark and Mick almost pulls back because every nerve is screaming at him, blaming him. But then her hand runs through his hair and he forgets. This is Amber,  _his_  Amber, and right now Mick loves her; so he lets the lust overtake the guilt and kisses her harder.

(If he's honest, that was the beginning of the end. But Mick isn't honest.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU because even though it's pre-series, the potential characterization really doesn't fit canon


	21. tidal wave of mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the question lingers on her tongue, begging to be set free, but she hesitates to further strengthen the uneasy wall between them. (KT, Fabian, Eddie, Patricia, Alfie, Fabian/Nina, Eddie/Patricia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-House of Tombs, Pre-House of Close Calls

When Alfie rambles, KT's learnt that he's trying to get out of something.

His smile brightens the room with an awkward flare, his hand rubbing the back of his head or gesturing wildly before him. With colorful presence, Alfie usually worms his way out of something with quick words and easy smiles.

So when Alfie goes on about homework and essays about zombies and Joy, Patrica rolls her eyes, Fabian and Eddie exchange a look, and KT knows he's about to slide out the doorway of Eddie and Fabian's room. She's right – he does – and Patricia mutters something under her breath and KT wonders how those two can be so different yet so close. But then Eddie bumps his shoulder into hers and KT smiles and knows.

Patricia's eyes darken and KT frowns; the other girl's jealousy oozes from the tension in her shoulder blades when Patricia straightens. "I'm going to get Joy's camera – I need some new pictures."

KT watches Eddie watching Patricia; his face is a mixture of regret and anger, lines of darkness hidden in the shadows of his mask. He catches her staring though, and even though KT looks away quickly, casually straightening her uniform, she notices his small, sad smile. "I'm going to make a snack," he says as he stands, fingers slipping into his pockets. "Want anything?"

KT shakes her head. "No thank you," says Fabian, glancing up from the book in his lap. But it's a momentary lapse, for his head is buried behind the dark cover once again and KT rolls her eyes.

Eddie leaves and now she's left with only Fabian, absorbed with his first love and his latest love a solid barrier between them still. KT tries not to bite her nails, running her hands down her arms instead.

He surprises her when he breaks the awkward silence. "For the record, KT, I'm sorry about not trusting you."

"It's okay," she says, her hands sliding down her arm and interlocking in her lap. "I don't blame you."

Fabian closes the book, the old spine creaking, and places it aside. "Still, I shouldn't have taken my frustrations about Nina out on you."

KT swallows; the question lingers on her tongue, begging to be set free, but she hesitates to further strengthen the uneasy wall between them. In the end, she sighs. "Tell – tell me about her," says KT. The genuine curiosity simmers in her stomach, building over the past weeks. "I mean, Eddie's told me a little bit – she's the Chosen One, she's from America, she couldn't come back, she's – she was your girlfriend." KT studies her feet, curling her toes around the wheels of her chair, and avoids Fabian's eyes. "But I – I don't really  _know_  her."

There's a long silence and KT wonders if she's offended him. She hopes Eddie or Patricia returns soon because the tension suffocates but then Fabian leans back against the wall and KT watches him smile. "Nina's – she's really great. She's so brave and adventurous, and she's the Chosen One for a reason: she really  _wants_  to figure out what's going on," he says, his eyes sparkling for the first time. She's seen that look in his eyes once before: when he's uncovered a new clue, solved another piece of the puzzle. "She's just – great. I – I really miss her." He trails off into a mutter, but KT can still hear him and her heart sinks just a little.

"Hey," she says, rolling Eddie's desk chair towards him and letting her hand rest lightly on his arm. He snaps back to reality, his eyes grounded once more, and Fabian nods. With a gentle squeeze, KT's hand retreats. "It'll be okay. Eventually."

"Yeah, I know."

The awkward silence returns; Fabian's book remains untouched between them and KT can't seem to tear her eyes away from it. Big words and lofty phrases don't make sense to her, but it seems so daunting. Goosebumps crawl up her arms and at first KT shivers, but then she realizes Fabian is staring at her. "What?"

"I forgot what it was like for Nina, that first couple of days. I'm – " he sighs again, his frown deeper and  _guilty_  and KT wants him to stop. "I'm really sorry."

"Stop apologizing or I might have to get Patricia to dump a pitcher of water on  _you._ "

When Fabian laughs, it's more of a bark but it breaks the air and KT feels warmer. "Maybe I'll get lucky and it'll be orange juice this time."

"How many times has she done this exactly – "

"Too many," says Eddie as he reenters, a sandwich in his hand, and all the brightness returned to his eyes. "And she never has to clean it up either."

"Are you spreading lies about me again?" says Patricia, pushing past Eddie in the doorway to his own room, carrying Joy's camera and barely glancing up. "Because I think Trudy forgot to put away the lemonade."

Eddie throws his hands up in mock surrender before taking another bite of his sandwich. "I wouldn't dare," he says, taking a seat on Fabian's bed beside KT. "Not when she's in the room," he mutters under his breath.

KT's hand is the only reason Patricia doesn't hear the giggles.

"Alright, get together. Picture time."

"Patricia, I need to study – " says Fabian, motioning to the book back in his lap.

"Not for the next thirty seconds, you don't," says Patricia, grabbing the book out of his hands and throwing it onto Eddie's bed. Fabian motions to retrieve it, but KT pushes him back down.

"Just sit still for one minute and we'll let you get back to your stupid book, okay?" she says. Patricia raises an eyebrow at her, and KT wonders if she imagines the respect reflecting back. Fabian sighs, Eddie laughs, and KT climbs onto the bed and squeezes herself between the two.

Despite the tidal wave of mystery around them, even Fabian manages to smile for the camera. KT's face contorts into some sort of grimace, but inside she smiles widely: this moment fills her cup of happiness, and even if everything shatters later, the picture preserves the current rainbow when everyone is safe and sound.

The flash is blinding, but KT can still hear Patricia laughing afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That picture made me unreasonably happy, so this happened.


	22. a house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bright yellow contrasts nicely to the dull grey all around him. (Mick, Amber, Mick/Amber, Mick/Mara, Alfie/Amber)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-“House of Unity”, mild cursing: Original prompt was "Leave a 'Call Me' in my ask, and I will write a drabble about one character asking for another [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]" from willowlovegood.

It's raining.

Mick doesn't like walking in the rain, but his umbrella is sturdy enough and he  _really_ needs to eat. As his stomach grumbles and he grinds his teeth together, Mick narrowly misses stepping into a puddle and soaking his brand new sneakers. The chill in the air sends shivers up his spine and down his arms and he hugs his jacket closer to him.

_Goddamn rain_. It's when a gust of wind gets the better of him and his umbrella tilts too far to the left and he walks beneath a tree and several drops –  _a freaking waterfall_ – cascade over him that he notices it. He's soaking wet, his umbrella back in place but not doing much good as the wind picks up and  _it's raining sideways_ ; the bright yellow contrasts nicely to the dull grey all around him.

It's a simple yellow dress, no lace or frills or fancy decorations. If Mick knows anything about dresses – and although he'd never admit, dating Amber for over a year forces a person to pick up a few things – he knows that it is not the glued-on sequins or intricate threading that makes this garment beautiful. Mick knows it's the fabric, so bright, so simple; the yellow dress adorns the mannequin with all the grace and poise of sophistication, cut finely and designed with care. To him, the dress seems –  _effortless_.

And all at once, Mick's heart seizes; he can picture her wearing it, twirling and laughing and raising an elegant eyebrow. He glances down to his wrist – the rainbow bracelet she returned to him clashes violently with the rest of his outfit, but somehow he can never take it off. And now,  _especially_  now, he's glad he doesn't: he twirls it around his wrist once before looking back at the dress.

The rain has eased slightly now, so despite the absentminded way he holds his umbrella, Mick is not dripping wet. He steps back from the store window – his nose is mere inches away and his breath fogs up the glass – and admires the dress one last time. When he finally closes his eyes and turns away, there's a burning image of yellow and elegance and Amber.

The image stays with him as he continues on – he gets food, eats it, and returns back to his place.  _Not home, it doesn't feel right – Anubis House was home, until Mara –_

But his thoughts stray from the positive, now dark and deep and intense, and Mick can't handle that, not right now, so he goes back further in memories of home – to memories of Amber and her arms around him and her lips intertwined with his.

_Fuck_.

It's not elegant or smooth or at all genius, but the conclusion arrives hard and fast and without warning. There's an inkling of inevitability in his thoughts, and Mick tries very hard to ignore it, but he fails spectacularly: he's stopped walking, mere blocks away from his flat, the misty rain continuing to fall in wayward patterns and his umbrella uselessly grasped between loose fingers.

Irony would be discovering a picture of her happiness with  _him_  and not him. Coincidence would be their song playing suddenly, a melody floating through wind and water to reach his ears.

But his phone ringing, shrill and harsh and abruptly, can only be fate.

"Hello?"

"Mick! I'm sorry I didn't call last week, stuff has been super crazy and I'm actually in New York – "

" _What?"_  Her voice is a familiar song to him; he imagines her tilting her head and rolling her eyes and continuing to talk without pause. Preoccupied with his thoughts and serendipity and walking, Mick almost misses her explanation.

"Basically Daddy wanted me to go to fashion school, and since I actually got in like I told you, I decided it would it would be a good idea. So I'm now in New York!"

"Wow, Amber, that's great!" says Mick, and most of him means it as he reaches the entrance of his complex. "I'm really happy for you – like I said before, fashion school is perfect for you."

"Thanks Mick." He wonders if she's smiling or frowning – probably smiling. He wonders if she's sitting or standing – probably sitting on her bed, legs hanging down, hair tickling her arm. Mick closes his eyes, leaning on the wall of his apartment building, dropping his umbrella as the rain stills and clouds whiten. As her breathing synchronizes with his, he imagines her sitting across from him, despite an ocean and a continent between them. "Hey, Mick – how have you been doing? You haven't really said much the past couple of weeks – "

"I'm – okay," he says, his voice hitching over the last word.  _I'm lonely, bored as fuck, out of my league._ "Or at least, I will be."

"Mick – "

"You'd love it here, though," he continues, hoping to stall her questioning because as much as he loves her – in whichever way because he's never quite sure – he  _can't_  right now. "Especially during the summer. Lots of sun, the beaches are really fun, and so many surfers."

"Fit girls in bikinis?" she says with that tiny smile coloring her voice.

"Some," says Mick. "Not as fit as you, of course."

"Obviously, my bikini is my best outfit."

When he laughs, he leans forward and the sun lightens his face. The ocean – viewable in the distance – glitters and he can hear laughs as his neighbors run past him, out of the building. He rolls up his sleeves. "Hey, Amber – can I ask you a question?"

"Always."

"How was Mara, before you left? I – " he pauses, hoping to calm his hands, "I think I'm over it, but – is Jerome treating her right?

"Yes," she says. He might be imagining it, but he thinks he her bite her tongue. But he decides to ignore the feeling and trust her because that's easy.

"And – Alfie? You and him – "

"Alfie was great," says Amber and now there's sadness and fondness dancing in her voice. "He – we agreed to break up after I left. But – he was great."

Mick recognizes the longing tugging in her words and he hopes that's not why his stomach churns. "You miss him."

"I do."

Mick pretends those words don't hurt him, don't make want to curl up on the bench beside him; he pretends and fakes and imagines different situations and events and he hopes that in the future it may all come true. He hopes Amber doesn't hear his loud sigh. "Alfie's a lucky guy."

"I miss you too, Mick. A lot."

He pauses, for such a long time he hopes that she hasn't hung up, but her breathing still echoes through the line and Mick swallows. "I was walking home just now," he says, using a hand to block out the sun when he glances upwards, "and I saw this beautiful dress. It was yellow, and it had some pretty swirls in orange thread or something. But it wasn't even that pretty, the dress, it was simple – but it was  _beautiful_ , Amber, I can't even describe it. It didn't even need to try to be gorgeous, it just was. It just  _is._ " He takes in a deep breath, as his heart constricts in his chest and his smile reflects brightly off the sunlight as he relaxes his arms in his now-unzipped jacket. "Amber – "

"I lied."

Mick waits for her to clarify, because if he speaks some inhuman sound would be released because he's startled and confused and _what the hell_. He blinks rapidly, sliding onto the bench in front of his building, watching clouds float by, and waiting.

"Victor – oh  _Mick_ , it's such a long story – you never found out about Sibuna and Nina and Eddie and everything with Senkara and now Victor's basically banished me from my  _home_  and everyone – and I – I'm so sorry, Mick! That's why I was forgetting our dates and everything last year – "

Even though she's still going, stumbling her way through explanations and truths that somehow fill missing holes in Mick's memories, Amber must know he's stopped listening; her voice lowers and her words stick together like honey, a low mumble that vibrates through the phone and through his chest. But it's Mick's racing thoughts that surround him and fill every vein. "Amber, I hope you know that I did not understand any of that."

"I know," she says, her small sigh allowing him a tiny smile. "But just – I'm sorry and Victor made me leave, but I'm – I'm okay with it now. A little."

Her optimism warms him; sweat pools in the line between forehead and hair when Mick runs a hand down his shorts. He's not completely sure what she's supposedly okay with, but he knows his breathing is steady again. "If you're okay – then okay."

"You really are amazing, Mick."

Mick tries not to smile. "You're really amazing too."

"Talk to you next week?"

"Of course."

She hangs up first this time – Mick wants to stare at her assigned picture on his phone for a moment longer – before the black screen overtakes the device and he glances upward. A cloud floats before the sun, momentarily darkening his vision.

Mick leans back; the brick wall behind him is still wet, and the ground is covered in puddles, but he slips out of his rain jacket and picks up his umbrella. With the sun beating down against his neck, Mick runs his thumb along the rainbow bracelet adorning his wrist before smiling and pulling out his keys. This may not be home, but Mick knows that someday he'll have a house filled with rainbow bracelets and yellow dresses.

The sun is freed as the cloud floats away and everything's bright again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a labor of love, and it took me a while, so all feedback – especially if you don’t ship these two – is very much welcome!


	23. burn the ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all laugh: they laugh at her. (KT, everyone else)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-"House of Capture"; violent themes, dark

When KT wakes up, her heart is heavy and it's a struggle to breathe.

But then she sneezes – hard and loud – and when her eyes slowly open she realizes that there is dust  _everywhere_.

Fabian leans against the wall, shrouded in the darkness and reading a scroll intently. KT immediately sits up and tries to hide behind a table but the movement draws his attention. "Ah, you're awake."

His eyes flash red and KT tries not to grit her teeth as her hands clench the moldy blanket she had been laying upon. Part of her wonders how it got there; the other part of her is frozen because Fabian is staring her, with a smile that makes her heart clench and her stomach churn and her throat dry. "What do you want?" she says, croaking out an attempt at seeming together. But her head hurts and her heart aches and all she wants is Eddie and Alfie  _right now_.

"You, of course," he says. His grin is wider now and KT hates herself because her heart flips over and there might be butterflies flittering in her gut but  _Fabian is evil_. "Don't look so surprised," he says with a laugh, stepping closer, "I didn't think you were  _that_ naïve."

Bubbling to the surface, the anger fills every vein and KT's eyes narrow. "I am  _not_  naïve." Part of her is glad she did some sort of tally and knows the last sin is spite; the other part of her knows she's feeling very spiteful to every team evil member right now so she needs to  _run_.

"Okay KT." Only inches away, Fabian stops moving; he looks at her, eyes burning through cloth and skin into every piece of her and KT wants to scream.

He reaches out and misses and she's climbing out of the room and into the coatroom. His screams echoing her ears, she runs and runs; out the door and  _away_ , while behind her Anubis House burns.

In the school, Jerome sits on the floor, eyes vacantly staring. KT frowns and moves toward him, but Mara slides between them. "I'm leaving KT! I can't handle this anymore – "

"Mara, we  _need_ you!" Her haste and desperation drips into her limbs and KT shakes her. Her throat is so dry: "please don't – "

"Bye KT."

Alfie spins her around; his eyes flash red. Goosebumps line her arms. "C'mon KT, let's go find Fabian – "

Willow screams, her auburn hair a frizzy mane around her. The drama room couch is ripped apart beneath her. "Evil and evil and evil, they're all bad, it's too much, it hurts too much, why them, why why why – " she says, each mutter a new freshly opened wound. Joy glares at her, hugging a maroon pillow stained in tears. KT wants to cry.

KT runs into Eddie; he tosses her a staff and she catches it, a choreographed dance known by heart because this is what it used to be, him and her and figuring out what the hell was going on. "Let's rock," he says, spinning the stick in his hands, the edges blurring into solid lines and KT feels herself smiling.

When her great-grandpa emerges from the shadows, his laugh shakes the hallway, metal lockers quivering. But despite the ringing her ears, her eyes are stuck on Fabian, flanked by Patricia and Alfie, and all the acid swimming in her blood threatens to pour out in tears. But Eddie nudges her, staring at the same spot – his eyes lingering just a bit too long on Patricia – and then the laughter is back and Mr. Sweets and Victor are laughing too and maybe Denby's hiding behind the corner because KT can't find her –

Fabian grins in her direction again; Eddie is frozen now, staff fallen to the floor. Patricia laughs – shrill and loud and  _hollow_ \- and Alfie and Fabian join her. They all laugh: they laugh at her.

She's all alone.

KT runs again; she runs and her bag is hung over her shoulder, and when she knocks on the door, she  _pounds_  her fists against it. This is her only hope, the only person who could possibly save them all –

The door swings open. "What the – " says the girl, her brown hair braided back. Her frown is harsher than the hardness in her eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"Fabian needs your help," says KT and Nina Martin's eyes soften instantly as she shuts the door behind her.

They run.

"What happened?" asks Nina, panting when they finally steal Amber away. The latter is just as confused, frowning and looking at both with sadness in her gaze.

"It – everything is falling apart! Fabian – and Alfie and Patricia are  _evil_  now, and Eddie – oh god,  _Eddie_ ," says KT and the tears clog up her voice and her throat and it's a wonder she's still standing. With Amber's arms around her, rubbing circles into her back, KT continues. "And Mara left when she found out what was going on – and Joy and Jerome don't respond and Willow's gone  _crazy_ \- "

And Nina is hugging her too and KT wants to cry harder because she doesn't know this other American, the girl who stole Fabian's heart and never returned it. Amber whispers something to her best friend and KT's heart momentarily aches for Eddie. "We can do this, KT," says Nina, her voice strong and comforting and for the moment, KT believes her.

But the fire is stronger; the flames dance under her great-grandpa's feet, his laughter louder and stronger and harmonized with the voices of his five sinners. Denby whimpers in the edge of her vision, while Willow screams. While Mara is absent, Joy and Jerome burn the ashes of an abandoned script, their haunted voices singing. _"There is just one thing you'll need, and in the end you shall only bleed."_

Yet Nina remains firm and determined, Amber almost to tears, and an unfamiliar blonde boy punches a wall behind them and it crumbles. The boy disappears – but not before shouting something incomprehensible towards Amber and a rainbow bracelet is captured by the flames – and Nina picks up the staff. Amber picks up the other one; the two walk towards the fire and the acid and blood and Fabian's laugh is louder now.

KT blinks.

Fabian's laughter drowns out her great-grandpa's, but it's softer now and more genuine. The river tickles her bare feet and she glances up into the sun; she sees figures running across the tree line. Lit by laughter and the sun, the forest swirls with a rainbow of emotions.

"Hey, KT!" says Eddie, his arm around Patricia. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just dipping my feet in. Where's – "

"Fabian and Nina are probably making out behind some bushes," says Patricia, rolling her eyes. Her head tilts towards Jerome and Joy, playing footsie by a picnic table, Mara reading beside them. "Not unlike these two lovebirds."

KT laughs; her heart is sinking, meanwhile, and she wonders what the bubbling acid in her stomach means. But Alfie grabs her from behind and drags her to Willow, who dances in the open field, the green grass clashes violently with her hair. Her steps are danced to no music, but she looks elegant, the fabric of her dress swaying around her.

Leaning against the sturdy tree trunk, KT lets her eyes close.

Sweat drips from her hands as she narrows her eyes and concentrates. All of them stand against her – Eddie, cold and distant; Alfie, serious and glaring; Patricia, calm and collected; Fabian, smug and unfazed. Behind them, she sees Amber's burnt hair and Nina's vacant eyes.

Her grip tightens around her pathetic key, her only defense, her only purpose; Fabian laughs again, but his laugh isn't his – Robert Frobisher-Smythe laughs louder, his eyes flashing bright red.

KT screams.

"KT," says a voice, whispering softly, all the lack of subtly and kindness back. The shaking picks up. "KT, are you okay? It's just a nightmare – "

She wonders if she imagines his voice breaking on the last word; but her head pounds harder and she opens her eyes. Curled up on Fabian's bed, a cryptic note in her grip, Alfie smiles down at her. "Hey, you okay?"

KT nods and sits up. Eddie and Alfie exchange a look. "I'm okay, really. Just – a nightmare." When KT shivers, they both sit down around her. "I'm okay really. We just – we need to win, guys."

"I know, KT," says Eddie. His hand rests around an old book, worn and haggard, and KT sees it resting between Mara's fingers. "And I know how."

KT smiles, the key back in her pocket. Something in her mind whispers about blonde hair and fire and crumbling walls, but KT glances at the words in her hands and her heart is still heavy and she is still struggling to breathe.

_Sinners walk among you._

Her arms snake around her knees and as Eddie and Alfie whisper to each other, KT wishes Fabian's pillows didn't smell so good.


	24. heart's windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if Nina had come back instead of Eddie (Fabian/KT, Fabian/Nina)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU, Post-"House of Heroes"

Sitting in the summerhouse is weird for Fabian; weeds crawl up the sides of mossy pillars and cracked rocks house tiny creatures. But it's the clear memories that haunt him; the guilt festers in open wounds and the burning sun warms his skin, but it's the hard concrete that stabs into his spine when he slides down a wall. Even as he stares at the trees lining the visible forest, he imagines himself standing on the pathway and  _laughing_ , red eyes flashing and conscience locked far away.

He can see KT squirming in Patricia's arms, Eddie walking over slowly; he can hear KT pleading for Eddie to  _go_  and Eddie refusing, something about Alfie and  _this is you_. Fabian's heart squeezes when he shuts his eyes, but the scene still plays, maniacal laughter and tossed fake-artifacts and his friends  _running_. And they run from _him_ : because he's evil and tearing out pages of books and whispering harsh truths and hissing flat-out lies –

Fabian stretches his legs. Despite the shade that covers him, he still feels sweat pooling on his body and he forces himself to stand again and walk down the hallway. His hands briefly stroke a statue of a man's head before falling to his side and pinching his thigh.

Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if Nina had come back instead of Eddie; sometimes his heart hurts because she's not there and the anger rises and he watches the rock harden around him. Now, when it's almost midday and the clouds are scarce and he's far from the rest of grounds: now he wonders if he'd be able to handle the guilt that churns in his stomach if Nina had come back and had been sitting beside him with sad smiles and judging eyes. Because Fabian knows that no matter how kind and gentle-hearted his ex-girlfriend could be, Nina was still  _Nina_  and Fabian doesn't think he can bare the thoughts anymore.

The archway's architecture seems too plain to Fabian; there are no decorated carvings or fancy markings. It's just solid rock cut into an arch and framing the entrances. It's simple and white, unlike the rest of the buildings around the grounds, and it stands out; but it's still old, Fabian notices as he takes a seat on a marble step, wiping dust off the surface. It's old and decrepit and sturdy, but  _simple_.

Something glitters on the ground and for a moment, Fabian's heart stops. But it's just a rock: the scratches reveal tiny pale blue crystals that dance in the sunlight. He watches it, sitting among other white rocks, innocently shining; beside it sits the lone gray rock in a sea of ivory. Yet, as Fabian stares for longer, each rock swimming with prolonged exposure to the heat, the gray rock seems more  _silver_  than dull, each blue sparkle of the adjacent rock brightening both in the sun, even as a cloud momentary floats past.

His mind is so full with studying the countless pebbles surround him, he doesn't hear her sitting down until she takes his discarded blazer and folds it into her lap. "Hey," says Fabian, still looking at the rocks but seeing his own feet grinding against them.

"Hey," says KT. "Didn't think I'd find you here, of all places."

Fabian smiles, small and hesitant and still filled with all the guilt and horror of before. "I had a dream again. I remembered."

"Ah," she says, stretching out her legs. "Yeah, Alfie said he remembered breaking up with Willow this morning – I'm surprised she hasn't said anything yet actually."

"Yeah." Fabian's hearing but not listening because Alfie reminds him of things he'd rather forget – he had, just before, but the weeks fly by and memories reemerge and the guilt simmers slowly and gradually until it boils overs. "Did Joy – "

"She hasn't said anything to me," says KT, her eyes narrowing and Fabian notices these things, like how KT looks sadder now and has moved closer to him. "Fabian – "

"I know," he says before she continues because he  _does_  know. His soul was stolen; he wasn't in control of his actions; he was manipulated and not to blame and it could have happen to anyone. It  _did_ happen to everyone.  _Except –_

KT moves a bit closer now, her arm brushing against his. "Hey," she says, pushing into him slightly, "if makes you feel better, if weren't for you – I wouldn't be here right now."

And that's what makes Fabian frown: because shouldn't he have sent her running? Or even worse, gotten her and everyone else  _killed_ , their souls and spirits absorbed by a demon intent on conquering the world and leaving everything in darkness. So Fabian raises an eyebrow, and KT grins.

"You called me," she says, her eyes falling to his jacket in her arms. She plays with a button, her thumb gliding across the threading. "You called me when great-grandpa was in your room and I was so  _scared_  – I was convinced he was going to capture you or – " she stops clearing her throat and Fabian feels his stomach clench. "I guess I really am dumb, aren't I? I should have known he'd have taken you to the gatehouse – and if I hadn't left they would have taken me and you wouldn't have been – "

"KT," says Fabian with a tiny smile, because this is so  _her_ , "you did everything you could. And it all worked out in the end. You helped save the world."

She blushes; it's not a blush covered in a sarcastic comment, or a blush with a bitten lip. It's not even a blush with downcast eyes and a tiny smile, nervous and flattered: it's not Nina's blush. KT's blush is full and she owns it, with a wide smile and pride lining her lips. It's more pink than red, a warmth building behind her eyes causing them to glow and shimmer and twinkle in sync with the building pool of warmth in his chest.

"I guess I did," says KT, nodding and smiling and Fabian smiles too. "But if you hadn't called me, Fabian, I might have left."

The ice that crawls up his spine remains hidden in the flat tone of his voice. "Left?"

"I was at the bus stop when you called," she says, her lips falling and her fingers almost ripping apart the sleeves of his blazer. "I was – everyone was – "

"When I ran into that empty room," says Fabian, interrupting her because he remembers the clenching of his heart, mixed with the dread of Patricia's red eyes flashing as she stands in Eddie's arms, "after you had escaped from Victor – I was scared. I didn't know if they had taken you too or what and – " he stops. Rising in his chest is the memory of confusion and concern and the whirlwind of thoughts; Fabian closes his eyes. "This entire term has been just – "

"What," says KT, her small laugh not quite enough to lift his heavy spirit but at least to nudge it forward, "you mean you don't have a dead guy trying to resurrect a demon goddess from the underworld and making everyone zombie-sinner followers every term?"

Fabian rolls his eyes. "Not quite," he says. The tiny smile on his face is slightly bittersweet now. "Save our own lives, sure. And the house, plenty of times. Discover the secret to eternal life? Of course. Maybe even break an evil curse or two." Fabian straightens his back, pulling his feet towards him; he resists the urge to pull back completely, because KT's arm still rests against his. His other arm feels cold in comparison. "But this – this was something else."

Maybe if he continues to look away, he won't notice KT's mixed expression out of the corner of his eye: she's biting her lip with narrowed eyes and a glint of determination in the creases of her clenched fists. And Fabian pretends he doesn't see because that's what he's been doing and he ignores the buzzing building in his chest because he doesn't want to know what it means.

"Why did you call me, Fabian?" she finally asks, her eyes locked upon his face. Her gaze burns against his skin, confident and steady, while Fabian refuses to meet it. He still stares ahead, at the trees swaying in the summer wind.

But Fabian closes his eyes before he answers. The reason swims around his mind, elusively slipping away, but he catches glimpses; the hints are all there, ready to dive straight in, circling the truth he's not sure he's ready to admit. "I – I called you, KT," he says, finally looking at her for the first time and finally noticing the tiny bags lining her eyes, "because at that moment, you were the only person I fully trusted. It was – it was instinct."

KT frowns and Fabian doesn't like that; pushing the blazer out of her lap and back onto the steps, she curls her knees towards her; the space between them increases suddenly and drastically. Her hands are clenched around her forearms and Fabian tries not to shiver. "What?" he says, because this isn't normal behavior and he may be oblivious, but he isn't  _stupid_.

"You trusted me."

Fabian raises an eyebrow. "What did you expect?"

And something hits him at the same time she really  _hears_  his words, because it's an old video played back, crackling and skipping, the exact moment clear. A tank, her wide eyes,  _you're so mean_ , and her hands on his shoulders and  _falling_.

(There's a sneaky voice in the back of the head right then, whispering  _maybe you were falling ever since_  but he pretends it doesn't exist.)

It's KT's laughter that drowns the voice, her arms falling back to her side. "That was so sweet, Fabian." And this time she grins and shoves him gently and he's doesn't fall or move at all really, but his heart clenches and his mouth dries.

Fabian pulls his eyes away from KT, because he's afraid he might be staring and because his stomach is churning again but the guilt is different now: no longer is he worried about Joy's broken face but of Nina's. The pebbles still sparkle in the sunlight, but the silver ones seem to be spreading. Nina would say something about how beautiful and remarkable they were; KT doesn't say anything though, and he feels her eyes flickering between his face and the stones, as if she just  _knows_.

"You've got that look again," she says, a little quirk in her lips. "The Nina look."

"The what?"

"The Nina look." KT's lips turn into a full smile, but it doesn't sit quite right on her face and Fabian's eyebrows furrow further. "I didn't realize what it was until Denby – the fake one, Caroline – brought it up when she made us fill out those stupid personality tests." Hot acid bubbles at the reminder and KT shakes her head. "You had that look – sad, angry, resigned." KT sighs with such a sad smile lining her face; Fabian wants to grab her in that moment and hug her – but he doesn't. "She means to the world to you, doesn't she?"

"She did," says Fabian, and it's at this moment that he decides to close his eyes. He lets the hand that grips his stomach slide up, taking control of his tongue, guided by his heart. Shutting of his brain, his heart speaks, and he no longer sees his own ghost laughing with red eyes; he just hears Nina's heartbroken words in Amber's voice and feels KT's presence hovering over his shoulder.

"She was my first real girlfriend," he says, his fingers drawing circles on the step beneath him, "and I miss her a lot. When I thought her and Eddie – " his voice cracks, and Fabian tries not to cringe. "I was so mad and so – I couldn't believe they could do that to me. But I trusted Nina more than life itself, KT, and to have her just  _not there_  anymore… You never met him, but Mick was my best friend. But Nina – Nina was even more than that. She was more than a best friend."

"She was the first girl you ever loved," says KT and there's something odd coloring her words – not sadness or frustration, but  _awe_. "And you can't just move on from that."

"She was the first girl I ever loved," agrees Fabian, finally opening his eyes. He lets himself look back at KT, because he knows before he even says it that he needs to see her when the words leave his lips. "But I can move on. Eventually."

And KT says nothing, but Fabian thinks she gulps; he knows that his mouth is drier now and that if he just closes his eyes, the conversation will veer back into the safety he's used to. But the rocks are cracking, and each moment he spends with her in the daylight expands his heart's windows, leaving only the dusty remains of the wall constructed by an empty bed and a heartfelt note. So Fabian doesn't close his eyes, doesn't move away, doesn't stop it: he sighs, grabs his blazer, and waits.

"Uh," says KT, looking away and squirming, pulling back her hair as the sun glares down on them. "You should let me know when that happens."

Fabian grins. "I will."

And they both look away; this time when Fabian sees the rocks and the trees, he doesn't see Patricia glaring with nasty intentions, or Nina with betrayal in her eyes, or even Joy crying and Alfie seething. He sees himself kicking wayward pebbles, with downcast eyes, and hands in his pockets. He sees the sun beginning to set and the daylight disappearing below the horizon; he sees KT walk up beside him and smile and the stars twinkling above as if nodding.

Fabian sees himself moving on and when he turns back to KT this time, he finds he's okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally started this before the finale, which is why it's slightly AU. I wanted to incorporate Fabian/Mara into this, but it wasn't working, so I decided to keep it simple. In the end, this turned out to be an outpour of OTP feels or something, and it ended up giving me more Fabian/Nina feels than any Fabian/Nina fic I've ever written.


	25. purple jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But Joy's still looking at him with a twinkle in her eye, her lips quivering slightly to the right. "You want me to meet your dad." (Jerome/Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 8/24 on tumblr, requested by anonymous for the prompt: "want to write jeroy contemplating whether or not to do anything for father's day with their dads?"

"Dinner?"

"Too expensive, the only reason I'm still here is because of that scholarship. He doesn't even leave the house anymore."

Jerome twirls another lock of Joy's air, his arm around her shoulders. Joy flips another page of her book and Jerome frowns. "You don't have do anything with him, you know - "

Joy stiffens slightly in his arms and Jerome immediately lets go of her hair. "I know."

Jerome swallows, his eyes narrowing on the scalp of her hair; her eyes remain glued to the book in her hands, despite her obvious lack of attention on the words. "If you want," he says, each word illuminated in his mind before leaving his lips, "you could spend Father's Day with me and Poppy."

This time Joy gives up all pretense of reading, staring at Jerome with raised eyebrows. "With you?"

"Well," says Jerome, rolling his eyes, because she's just so  _shocked_ , "with my dad, yeah, but I mean, it's probably not going to be that much fun. Awkward silences, Poppy trying to start conversations, you know."

But Joy's still looking at him with a twinkle in her eye, her lips quivering slightly to the right. "You want me to meet your dad."

Jerome gulps. "Yes," he says, because now he knows why her eyes seem brighter and her lips seem thinner and she just seems so  _beautiful_  looking up at him. "But only if you really want to. If you want to spend time with your own dad - "

"Jerome," says Joy, tossing the book on her lap aside and facing him, his hand on her shoulder and her hand on his knee, "my dad can barely look at me, let alone  _talk_  to me, and spending time with him - it's painful."

"Joy - "

"If you want me to meet your dad," she says instead, "then I want to meet him."

Jerome studies her; there's a delicate glow lining her face, holding her jaw in determination and sparkling in her eyes. In that moment, Jerome wants to kiss her. "Okay." As Joy grins, Jerome lets his hand slide down her arm until his fingers intertwine with hers. "As long as you promise not to wear that hideous Amber outfit."

Joy rolls her eyes. "Deal. As long as you get rid of that purple jacket of yours, it's worse than Alfie's bow tie."

And Jerome laughs.


	26. a new scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she's biting her lip and her fingers curl around her elbow tightly and he thinks he sees a tear sitting in the corner of her eye. (Fabian/Joy, Jerome/Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 8/25 on tumblr, for the prompt "would you want to write the jabian closure we never got?"

The knock on his door is timid and light and if he hadn’t been sitting quietly on his bed stewing he probably would have missed it.

"Come in!"

Joy walks in, eyes a little too bright and an arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey Fabes,” she says, voice soft and Fabian frowns at how little he sees of her face.

"What’s wrong?" he says, because it’s obvious she’s troubled: she’s biting her lip and her fingers curl around her elbow tightly and he thinks he sees a tear sitting in the corner of her eye.

"I remember a lot, Fabian," she says, her foot sliding across the floor. She awkwardly waits by Eddie’s bed, refusing to sit, but refusing to stay still either. "I remember my break up with Jerome, and Mara’s meltdown, and Alfie breaking up with Willow. And I remember you - " her voice cracks and her eyes fall closed. Fabian’s stomach churns, acid crawling up the sides of his gut, but the memory she speaks of remains allusive.

"What did I do?" he asks, because he genuinely doesn’t know and if what KT says is right - 

"You don’t remember," says Joy, the emotionless tone of her voice cutting Fabian straight in the stomach. "You - you told me that Jerome broke up with me because he couldn’t stand - " she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath before speaking again. She’s standing straighter and her voice is steadier and her fingers clench as if holding another’s. "He couldn’t stand my whining, just like everyone else."

Fabian stares. His heart has shattered, tiny pieces scratching against the acid pooling in his veins; each piece of glass tears a new scar, another reminder of all the ash left in the evil Fabian’s wake. As Joy begins to shake again, Fabian swallows loudly. “Joy - I - that wasn’t me,” he says, standing up and moving towards her. But Joy steps back. “I mean, it was me, but - it’s complicated.”

"I know," she says, and she looks like she does. "Patricia - I’m not stupid." Her hand waves across her face, but her lips are thin. "Sibuna business I bet, right? Don’t tell me," she continues because Fabian wants to interrupt and she knows him too well, "because I don’t want to know. But - I - actually, I have no idea why I’m here."

Fabian stands still, silent and quiet, because there are words echoing in the back of his head now:  _you need to be careful not to drop it, whether you asked for it or not._ And finally,  _finally_  it makes sense as Joy’s arms fall to her side and her face brightens and her eyes seem sharper. “Joy - ” he starts, but he never finishes.

"It’s okay," she says, a tiny smiling creeping onto her lips. "I - you didn’t know what you were doing, right?" Fabian’s mouth is still open and he barely nods before Joy continues. "And - Jerome understands. I - I’m not whiny, and everyone doesn’t think I am. I am Joy, and sometimes I might be Joyless, but I’m still me, screw ups and all."

Fabian wisely keeps his mouth shut.

And Joy nods to herself, her smile growing, before looking at him. “So I guess - you don’t need to apologize, Fabian. But thank you. Because if you hadn’t broken my heart, then I wouldn’t have needed to fix it.”

And Joy leaves; Fabian stares at the empty doorway, not completely sure what happened but having no desire to question it.


	27. moral support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patricia hisses. "You gave me a paper cut, idiot," she says as she sucks on her finger. "Ugh." (Eddie/Patricia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4/26 on Tumblr for the prompt: "write me some peddie ;) hmm prompts: green, paper, flower/flour, and bridge" by eddiekreugar.

Eddie swears when he places another green block on the bridge and it topples. "Great."

"I told you we needed to wait," says Patricia, flipping another page in her magazine. "Now we have to start all over."

Eddie glares at her, leaning back in his chair. "I don't see you helping, Yacker."

"This is  _your_  project," she says, cringing at an ad before swiping through another page. "I'm providing moral support."

"I don't feel very morally supported." Eddie bites his lip for a moment, watching Patricia ignore him, her finger sliding down the current page. But then he grabs her arm and pushes her further onto his bed, squeezing beside her. She's startled, he knows, because her eyebrows rise and there's a tiny squeak released from her lips and he grins. "That's better."

Patricia hisses. "You gave me a paper cut, idiot," she says as she sucks on her finger. "Ugh."

Rolling his eyes, Eddie takes her hand. "This," he says, making sure she's looking straight at him, her narrowed eyes softening slightly, "is how you provide moral support."

And he kisses her fingertip first; his trail of kisses travels from her palm up her arm, but he skips everything after the elbow and goes straight to her shoulder. "Eddie - " she says, her thumb massaging his am.

He pauses. "Not now?" he says, raising his eyebrows, but completely genuine.

"Oh, definitely now," says Patricia, taking the moment to unbutton her blazer, "but only if you realize you still have to finish that bridge if you want that extra credit."

"Extra credit," says Eddie, his hand running against Patricia's tights, the risen pattern imprinting flowers onto his palms, "or making out with my girlfriend." His mouth has returned to her shoulder, and when his lips finally meet the skin of her neck, he grins. "Hmm."

Patricia rolls her eyes and makes the decision for him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and meeting her lips strongly against his.


	28. honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with the moonlight streaming into the room, the darkness still embraces them, warm and tight. (Joy, Patricia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4/27 for the prompt: "Joy and Patricia friendship! Maybe being sad they aren't roommates anymore?" by anonymous.

They sneak into the room when Mara's not there - although, it's not really sneaking, Joy thinks, since it's Patricia's room too - and turn off all the lights and sit under the window. The moon is bright that night, illuminating each strand of the carpet and casting an erie glow on Mara's sheets.

Joy curls her knees into her chest while Patricia leaves her legs straight and crossed. Her socks look darker than usual. "I missed you," says Joy finally, because it's true and the sight of the scratches against the bedpost makes her stomach flip.

"I know," says Patricia, her fingers twitching in her lap. "After I switched with Willow and you started going out with Jerome and  _I_ started going out with Eddie again - "

"No," says Joy, because even as she twirls her ring around her finger once she knows that's not the real reason. "I quit Sibuna."

Patricia says nothing and the silence hovers, filling each crevice and mixing with the millions of memories that mingle like dust particles. Even with the moonlight streaming into the room, the darkness still embraces them, warm and tight.

"You remember that one night, a week after we moved in, when I was homesick?" says Joy and while Patricia doesn't respond, Joy knows she does. "I was trying not to cry because my dad had just called me and told me that mom had left and - you made me go to the kitchen with you. You didn't say anything, just looked really grumpy and I was worried I was annoying you," she says, and the smile that floats onto her face yearns for simpler times, "but really you trying to decide between making me tea or hot chocolate."

"And then I almost burned down the house," says Patricia and Joy hears her light laughter, "because you said you hadn't had green tea with honey before."

"Best thing you ever did for me," says Joy. Patricia rolls her eyes and nudges her; Joy's hair ripples in waves before lying flat against her pajamas and she bites her lip. "When I was gone, Mara stuck with you, right?"

Patricia frowns. "Yeah - until I started hanging out with Nina and Fabian - "

"Did you know that Willow and I are sisters?" says Joy quickly because while it no longer aches to think of Nina and Fabian, it does hurt like a pin picking at scabs. "Well, sort of."

"Her and Mara looked after you when I was - " says Patricia and Joy raises an eyebrow but when Patricia's face twists with indecision Joy understands.

"I don't want to know," says Joy and she still means it.

Patricia smiles sadly but nods. "Willow and Mara were there for you when I was dealing with Sibuna things, just like the others were when you were gone."

"Yeah, they were."

"Well," says Patricia, looping her arm through Joy's and leaning into their elbows, "I missed you too."

And Joy smiles, because even though the furniture is all wrong and Mara's perfume lingers in the air, this is still  _their_  room; and if tears crowded behind Joy's eyes again, Patricia would still drag her towards the green tea with honey.


	29. her private concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay, okay," says Fabian, his face softening at her glare and revealing the basket behind him. "Like I would really plan a picnic without any food." (Fabian/KT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4/28 for the prompt: "Fabian takes KT out on a picnicking date out on campus" asked by madame-rabbit on Tumblr. (Fun fact: this is one of my favorite pieces I have ever written.)

"Fabian."

"KT."

" _Fabian_."

" _KT_."

She throws her hands up, rolling her eyes, and Fabian laughs. "Fabian," she says once again, her voice flat and hard.

"Okay, okay," says Fabian, his face softening at her glare and revealing the basket behind him. "Like I would really plan a picnic without any food."

KT rolls her eyes again, but this time her eyes refuse to meet his and Fabian smiles. "I know, but still - " she says, reaching for the basket and letting her hands roam through its contents, "you had me worried there for a second."

"You don't trust me?" asks Fabian, not at all serious and KT obviously knows because she almost sticks out her tongue, but, gathering a semblance of maturity, only sighs instead.

"Always," she says and Fabian wonders for only second what the answer really means.

The sandwiches are eaten in silence, because it's warm outside and the breeze is cool enough that KT feels at peace in her shorts and blouse; Fabian hums, so it isn't exactly silence, but KT finds the warm melody a comforting embrace. The low mumbles of far away students on their lunch break is the harmony and when KT laughs, she believe it's the applause to her private concert.

"I like it," she says and Fabian looks down while taking a sip of his soda. "It's new, isn't it?"

"Kind of," says Fabian. He swirls his can around twice. "I started working on it a while ago - but stopped. And then, recently, I was inspired again. "

"It sounds really great."

"Thanks."

A butterfly lands on the basket and while Fabian stares, biting into his cupcake, KT leaves her apple on the blanket and reaches a finger towards the insect. It's pale green, yellow swirls dancing on its wings, and even as the bold outlines tickling her fingertip, KT feels her heart swell. The butterfly flitters out of reach a second later and her gaze follows it; but she loses sight of it around a tree and she feels Fabian staring at her. "What?"

"You're beautiful," he says, his eyes clear and his mouth slightly open, and KT's face warms. Fabian shakes his head and blinks. "I mean - that tree, behind you. It really - matches your outfit."

KT glances behind her; the tree is tall and wide, the bark peeling off the trunk and leaves glittering in the sunlight. If it wasn't a tree, it would be dependable and logical, passionate and protective. But it's a tree and KT tries not to giggle when she turns around. "The tree, huh?" Fabian nods, the cupcake in his hands quickly disappearing into his mouth, and KT shakes her head. "Well. The tree and I do make quite a good couple."

Almost choking, Fabian's hands squeeze around his cupcake. "Too bad you already have a boyfriend."

"Oh well," says KT, taking a sip of her juice before placing it aside. "Don't tell my boyfriend, but I think the tree has got him beat."

"Really?"

"Oh definitely," she says, leaning back onto her hands and stretching out her legs. Fabian begins to put away their trash and leftover food and KT loves how he does so with precision. "The tree's a lot better to look at."

And Fabian stops, his hand midway to the basket and an apple still clenched between his fingers. "Really," he says again, unfreezing for a moment to push aside the last pieces of trash between him and her.

"Really," she says, grinning wider now and Fabian slides beside her.

"KT." His smile is small but his eyes are wide enough that KT licks her lips.

"Fabian."

" _KT_."

" _Fabian_."

"You're stealing my thing," he says, having already taken her hand into his lap as she sits up.

KT's eyes keep falling to his lips. "I thought it was  _our_  thing."

Fabian raises an eyebrow as the inches between them slowly decrease. "Sure it's not your thing with the tree?"

"The thing is," says KT, leaning forward and with Fabian's thumb still running across her own, "I don't think I can do this with the tree."

And her lips meet his and it's all the electricity and warmth of usual; his breath still tickles her nose and she still really likes his hand in her hair. He still smells like the cologne hidden in the bottom of his sock drawer, and she feels her heart flooding with heat.

When Fabian pulls back, KT struggles to open her eyes again. "Well," he says, his hand still caressing her face, "you better tell that tree he's got competition."

KT laughs. "Somehow I don't think you need to worry too much," she says, squeezing his hand.

Fabian grins. "And once again, Fabian Rutter proves victorious." His hand wanders behind her back. "Take that, tree!"

And KT knows her boyfriend is pointing triumphantly to an oak tree behind her, and for some crazy reason that makes her very happy.


	30. pink and purple shower-caddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alfie, you can't screw it out the entire way! She has to get into the room first." (Alfie, Jerome, Joy, Patricia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4/29, for the prompt: "Alfie and Jerome pull a prank (would it be too difficult if I asked you to incorporate honey, a screwdriver, and soap?)" by anonymous.

"Alfie, you can't screw it out the entire way! She has to get  _into_  the room first."

Alfie twists the screwdriver once more before glaring at Jerome. "I  _know_ , I'm just making sure I don't break it." Jerome scoffs and Alfie rolls his eyes. "How's the shampoo doing?"

"You mean the watered-down honey?" says Jerome, grinning widely and tossing Alfie the bottle - decorated in yellow flowers - with one hand.

Alfie barely catches it, the screwdriver crashing to the floor, and both boys freeze as the sound echoes around the room. "No one heard us, right?"

A moment passes in silence before Jerome sticks his head out the door. The hallway is still, the girls in the living room below. "Mission is still a-go, Alfredo."

Alfie quickly puts the bottle back in the pink and purple shower-caddie, beside the bar of nail-polish-coated soap. He frowns as his finger runs across the weaving. "Why Joy?"

"Well," says Jerome, washing his hands in the sink before tossing out the empty bottle of honey, "I didn't want to upset Mara again, we messed with Amber's breakfast two days ago, and Patricia is off-limits. So - Joy's left."

Alfie's still frowning but he says nothing when Jerome quickly pushes him out of the bathroom. He's still silent as Jerome rambles about how  _beautiful_  her face will be, with sticky hair and confusion lining her face. The laughter that fills Jerome's voice is missing from Alfie's agreement but he shrugs and goes along with it.

(An hour later, Alfie  _is_  laughing, because Joy's frustrated yells fill the hallway and Jerome offers his fist to bump when Joy  _screams_. The doorknob shakes but doesn't turn and the angry  _thud_  they hear only sends Alfie into more laughter.)

"JEROME CLARKE, I AM GOING TO  _KILL_  YOU!"

Alfie's too busy laughing - and grateful that Jerome's reputation precedes him - to notice Patricia walking towards them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Jerome gulps.

"Too late, Joyless," he says because Patricia's grin makes Alfie's heart stop.

"Every man for himself!" says Alfie, diving for the staircase; he doesn't get very far.

(Somehow Jerome convinces Victor that his science project on "the effects of honey on shampoo" got left in the girl's bathroom and Alfie ends up cleaning toilets with a toothbrush for a week.)


	31. their pixelated connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian sighs, loud and resigned, and something squeezes in Mick's stomach. "How would you feel if I asked Mara out on a date?" (Mick, Fabian, Fabian/Mara, Mick/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 4/30 for the prompt: "Mick and Fabian video chat about Mara?" by anonymous.

"So Mick," says Fabian, glancing downwards and Mick frowns because the sudden change in demeanor usually indicates a change in subject. Mick straightens his laptop screen. "Um, so Jerome and Mara broke up."

"I know," says Mick, slowly and hesitantly, because he  _does_  know, he saw Jerome and Joy together and Fabian and Mara talking and KT seemed nice -

"And, you know how it's been hard getting over Nina," continues Fabian, still not looking at the screen, the uneasy lighting making it difficult for Mick to see much of Fabian's face, let alone his eyes.

"Yeah…"

Fabian sighs, loud and resigned, and something squeezes in Mick's stomach. "How would you feel if I asked Mara out on a date?" asks Fabian, quick and rushed and Mick barely hears him because Fabian's hand covers his mouth and his eyes are  _still_  not looking at the screen.

But Mick still hears him. He's frozen for a while, processing the words; his best friend wants to date his ex-girlfriend. His  _best friend_  wants to date the girl who cheated on him and dropped his heart on the floor, letting the feet of various Anubis residents - none of them himself - stomp on top of it. Mara's the girl who broke up with  _him_ and now his best friend wants to date her.

He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and exhales. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," repeats Mick, his eyes softer and Fabian finally looking at him. "My best mate needs to move on," he says, straightening his plaid shirt, sparing a quick glance out of the window. "Who better to do that with than Mara."

"You're not - " Fabian pauses, blinking quickly, and Mick almost finds it amusing. "You're okay with it?"

"Do you want me to not be okay with it?" Mick leans back in his chair, the corner of his eye recognizing the picture on his desk, a multicolored bracelet hanging off its frame. "Because you sound like - "

"No!" says Fabian, a smile rising over his face. "No, if you're okay with it - " he glances backward, as if making sure the room is still empty. "I can't believe I never saw it before, honestly."

Mick frowns again, because he can't believe  _he_  never saw it before either. "Yeah, I guess you and Mara really are perfect for each other." Mick laughs. "Both huge nerds."

Fabian rolls his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny." Fabian's grin hasn't slide off his face yet and the warmth in Mick's stomach is still there but it spins with a hint of regret. "I miss you, mate."

"Aw, don't get all sappy on me now, Rutter," says Mick, hoping the redness rising to his face isn't noticeable over their pixelated connection. "But yeah, I miss you too. Australia's not the same as Anubis, you know?"

"And Anubis isn't the same without you," says Fabian.

And the regret washes away and the warmth stings, because Mick just wants to go  _home_. But he smiles instead. "Don't lose her, Fabian," he says, letting the deep breathes flow through him. "Not like I did."

Fabian just nods.


	32. drugs and artificial coloring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't understand how anyone could possibly like Cherry-flavored anything, let alone cough drops," says Jerome (Jerome/Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/2 for the prompt: "Want to write Jeroy stuck in the house with colds?" (Considered part one of Scarlett's birthday gift.)

The cough drop is red, a harden, cherry-flavored ball of drugs and artificial coloring; but Joy places it on her tongue and sighs as she swallows, letting the salvia mix with the throat-soothing medicine.

"I don't understand how anyone could possibly like Cherry-flavored  _anything_ , let alone cough drops," says Jerome, his nose scrunched up. He grimaces and pulls out a tissue from the box in front of them a moment later, however.

Joy rolls her eyes. "I would need to eat these if  _someone_  hadn't gotten me sick."

"I do believe that  _you_  got  _me_  sick," says Jerome, tossing the used tissue into the trashcan beside the table where his books lay; the black container is filled to the brim with white tissues.

"No," says Joy. Jerome opens his mouth to rebuttal, but Joy pauses him with a finger. Several sneezes later – Jerome passes her the tissue box without a word – and Joy's still frowning and the irritation in her nose matched only by the irritation filling her chest. "You definitely got me sick."

Jerome says nothing now, although Joy catches him rolling his eyes with a tiny grin that sends her heart flittering. She bites her lip and forces her eyes to remain on the textbook in her lap; the plasticity of brain matter seems very uninteresting in comparison to Jerome's lips.

His fingers are drawing circles just under her knee, her legs propped up on his lap. His own feet kick the books on the table every so often, and Joy notices that every few moments, the textbooks on geometry and the French revolution slowly crawl aside, eventually falling to the floor. "You're going to have to study eventually," she says, ignoring the hypocrisy in her words as her eyes gloss over yet another section.

"Maybe," he says, his touch light on her leg and Joy wishes he wouldn't  _do_ that because the Goosebumps reveal tiny hairs and she  _just_  shaved. "Or maybe I'll get out of classes tomorrow since I'm still sick."

"You're not that sick, Jerome."

His face contorts into an  _oh really_  grin and Joy almost kicks him, but before she can, he coughs all over her legs. She recoils back, trying to escape the onslaught of  _sickness_  that leaves his lungs; she mainly succeeds, but Jerome's laughter drowns out the slight migraine building behind the bridge of her nose.

"Jerome! Stop it, you're going to make me – "

"More sick?" he says, eyes brighter and wider and Joy wonders what kind of trap he's sprung this time. "Because I'm sicker than you, because  _I got sick after you?_ "

"No," says Joy. She sits cross-legged on the couch now, almost sitting on the armrest to put as much distance between her and her boyfriend as she can. "You're just – germy." The pun hits her as the words leave her lips and Joy has to say she's impressed with herself.

"Germy?" says Jerome, voice flat. "Really?"

"Germy," repeats Joy, letting her smile fill each syllable, said over again with as much mirth as she can possibly find in herself, despite a stuffy nose and sore throat. "Germy Jerome. Germy Jerry. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

And that's when Jerome dives for her, the book in her lap clattering to the floor, his fingers running along her side and her arm crushed behind his shoulder and his lips kissing her temple. She grins when he pulls back. "Afraid of getting sick?" she says, tilting her head.

"Afraid of sneezing all over you, more like," he says before almost doing so; Joy pushes him away quickly and chucks the tissue box at him, although she can't help the tiny amusement on her lips.

"You're the worst."

Somehow, Jerome blows his nose and still manages to look smug.


	33. the sun to her moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up with someone imprints their name and figure into her heart and the scribbled doodles clear away again. (Mick/Joy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/3 for the prompt: "Joy has decided to a university in Australia, she meets an unexpected old friend, Mick Campbell. But there are some complications." (Considered part two of Scarlett's birthday gift.)

When she sees him again, after years and heartaches and bags under her eyes, he still smiles widely and brightly, the sun to her moon; it takes him five wide strides before they're hugging and she almost wants to cry.

"Mick!" she says, laughing into his chest, surprised and startled but very pleased. Growing up with someone imprints their name and figure into her heart and the scribbled doodles clear away again.

Mick steps back to let her breathe, but she can't quite do it because his grin is still so beautiful. "It's really nice to see you, Joy," he says, running a hand through his hair, the sleeves of his button-up unfolding slightly.

"I've missed you too," she says because she knows what he means. They're standing in the middle of the Australian street, but somehow that doesn't really matter. "Are you busy right now? I just got here and would love a cup of tea – "

"I know the perfect place," says Mick, grabbing the suitcase Joy had been wheeling behind her.

It's quiet and quaint and Joy's surprised Mick even knows this place exists because it's not loud and popular and crowded on weekends. But their green tea glides down her throat and settles easily in her stomach and she laughs when Mick orders a Frappuccino. "Turned into a coffee man, I see."

"Late nights at work," he says, shrugging. "Speaking of – what are you even doing here?"

Joy smiles because of course Mick would forget that little detail. "I needed a change of scenery," she says, hoping the bitterness escapes her words. "My Dad – I needed to get out of there."

Mick nods, says nothing, and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it, squeeze it, and release it in a period of thirty seconds. Joy wants to cry again. "Mick – I'm really glad I ran into you."

"Me too," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "You know," he says suddenly, as the music changes too from mild strumming to deep drums, "I had a crush on you way back when."

This time Joy does laugh because it's so sudden and  _not possible_. "Really?"

"Really."

"That's actually really funny," she says, swirling her tea. "Because before you started dating Amber – I had a thing for you too."

Mick's face switches from amused to understanding to sad all at once. "I guess we just never had the right timing."

"How about now?" says Joy and she wonders why she says it at all, because they just ran into each other after years – and even though they've video-chatted and called each other and generally kept in touch, it isn't the  _same_ \- and now she wants him to push her up against a wall, immediately.

But Mick frowns, his eyes stuck on his hands, his fingers clenching around his cup. "I don't know how to tell you this, Joy – "

And Joy's mind runs: he has a girlfriend, he's  _married_ , he doesn't like me like that anymore,  _just a friend_ ; every possible excuse to get out of dating her races through her mind. Mick's not stupid, she knows; he wants to reject her as nicely as possible because she attracts sadness and despair and he should  _run_.

"It's okay," says Joy quickly, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have said that – I understand – "

But Mick is  _still_  frowning, confusion rising in his eyes. "But – I want to – I like you, Joy," he says, and Joy blinks. "I just – " he rubs the back of his neck, the redness spreading behind his fingers. "I'm living with my parents and I know you can do so much better, so I understand if you don't want to hang out with me – "

And Joy  _laughs_  because Mick is still oblivious as ever. "How about this," she says, warmth filling every vein, tickling ever nerve, "I'll get a job, you get a flat, and then we can start dating."

Mick blinks; she knows he's processing the information, slowly and surely, but soon his lips are spreading. "Deal," he says.

(Joy finds a job a week later; Mick finally finds the perfect flat to live in a week after that. Two months later, they're dating and it's easy and wonderful and Joy wonders why she didn't move to Australia sooner.)


	34. sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Nina watches Mara release some anger and some frustration; there's an elegance to this dance, where with every punch aimed at nothing, another article of clothing falls into a bag. Every kick sends a book into a box. If it wasn't so upsetting, Nina might find it awe-inspiring. (Nina/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/3 on tumblr.

Nina finds Mara in her - well, really, it's  _hers_  again now - room; she's punching the air, half-packed bags lying across the floor and unfolded clothes scattered on an unmade bed. Mara's headphones are blasting and so she doesn't hear Nina opening and closing the door, or even sitting down on Patricia's bed.

So Nina watches Mara release some anger and some frustration; there's an elegance to this dance, where with every punch aimed at nothing, another article of clothing falls into a bag. Every kick sends a book into a box. If it wasn't so upsetting, Nina might find it awe-inspiring.

Mara finally notices her presence when she almost trips over a picture frame. "Nina!" says Mara, wincing as she rubs her big toe.

"You need some help?" asks Nina, standing and picking up the frame at fault. It's a picture of the original eight Anubis residents - with Joy, not Nina; with Mick, not Eddie; with Amber, not KT or Willow. They look so happy and even though her finger caresses glass, Nina can almost imagine the feeling of Fabian's skin.

Mara frowns at Nina's hesitance to let go. "He's happy with her."

"I know."

Mara's still staring at Jerome's face while Nina stares at Fabian's but Mara's words somehow make her doubt everything. "I really liked him, Nina."

"Jerome?"

"Fabian."

Somehow Nina's not at all surprised, and if she's honest she'd rather it was Mara than - "I really liked him too," she says instead because the pit in her stomach growls.

There's something about the way Mara's eyes brighten when they meet her own; there's something about her fingers brushing against the back of her as Mara takes back the frame. There's something about the growls turning into purrs.

"If you really want to help," says Mara, pulling out her headphones and wrapping them around her phone, "could you go ahead and put some of those books in that box over there?"

Nina immediately acquises; the first book is heavy and boring, the second one light and familiar, but it's the third book that grabs her attention. "I didn't know you were a Cassandra Clare fan."

Mara blushes slightly; Nina finds herself smiling when Mara looks away. "Yeah, it's kind of a guilty pleasure."

"I mean, who wouldn't want a guy like Jace?"

"Or Simon," says Mara, tucking a bra into the sides of a suitcase.

"Or Izzy - " Nina thinks she said it, but apparently Mara did too, because the other girl's eyebrows are raised and Nina feels very warm and she bites her lip.

"Something about a girl in leather, huh?" says Mara, half-joking, half-not and Nina knows it. Mara refuses to look at her, however, finding her undergarments much more interesting.

Nina tosses  _The Mortal Instruments_  into the box and follows Mara's lead. "Yeah. Or with a solid head on her shoulders," she says and she hopes it's as low of a whisper as she wanted it to be. But Mara hears her because her hand shakes a little when reaching for a pair of jeans.

"Fabian's an idiot," says Mara. "I can't believe he didn't want to get back together after all the stuff you two have been through - and you're so - " she doesn't finish and she doesn't have to.

"When Patricia told me that you two were dating," says Nina, "I was actually relieved. You two would have been so great, you know? And you - you deserve happiness, Mara."

Mara no longer pretends to be packing. "I wish I wasn't leaving."

"I wish you weren't either," says Nina.

The silence is heavy and fills every inch of the room, but somehow Mara's sigh lifts it and breaks it and the two continue packing. The bittersweetness of packing away Mara's belongings just so  _she_  could move in isn't lost on her; but neither are the sparks that erupt when Nina's hand slips against Mara's when they reach in the same direction.

Mara apologizes and Nina shrugs it off, but the pain of Fabian dating KT is dulled by the tiny smile dancing on Mara's lips.


	35. dark chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian only groans before grabbing a jacket and heading out the door. "If Amber makes us play some sort of couples game – " Mick just laughs (Fabian/Nina, Mick/Amber)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/6, Katie's birthday, on tumblr for the prompt "a nina/fabian and mick/amber double date"

"I can't believe you and Amber roped us into it."

Mick grins as he buttons up his shirt. "I didn't have to any roping, mate. Amber did all the work with Nina. And you," he says, raising an eyebrow at Fabian and his inability to properly align the buttons of his own shirt, "well, you just said yes."

Fabian rolls his eyes, having finally realigned the shirt; Mick tries not to laugh at the methodical way his roommate gets dressed, but the nervousness evident in Fabian's hands makes it difficult. "This is only our second date," says Fabian finally, after Mick is already ready and leaning against his wardrobe. "And I mean, our first date was great and everything – "

"Fabian," says Mick, his arms crossed and his smile small, "Nina likes you. A lot. This will be fun!"

Fabian only groans before grabbing a jacket and heading out the door. "If Amber makes us play some sort of couples game – "

Mick just laughs as he follows him out.

* * *

"Okay Nina, what's Fabian's favorite color?"

Mick loves how Fabian is blushing very hard and Nina is trying not to stutter and Amber just sits as elegantly as ever, digging into her salad without a notice or care of her best friend's embarrassment.

"Um, red?" says Nina, almost whispering, and if Mick wasn't sitting across from her he probably wouldn't have heard her. Mick groans though as Fabian grins and Amber adds another chip to the basket closer to the other couple. Nina whoops in triumph.

"Beau," says Amber, taking a sip of her water with expectant eyes and Mick tries not to seem smug. "What's my favorite color?"

"Yellow," says Mick without hesitation because he's done this before and failed miserably –  _I can't believe you though my favorite color was_ pink _! Do you even know me at all?_  – but now he knows better; and in hindsight, it makes so much sense because this is _Amber_.

Fabian grins. "Ha," he says, leaning over to take a chip out of Mick and Amber's basket, "everyone knows Amber's favorite color is – "

"Yellow," repeats Mick, snatching the chip out Fabian's hands. He immediately shoves into his mouth, letting his smug grin reflect in his chewing.

Before Fabian can protest, Amber hits Mick on the shoulder. "You're eating our lead!"

Mick glances at his empty hands. "Whoops? Sorry Ambs," he says, grabbing her hand instead and squeezing it. Amber sighs and rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything further.

"Maybe we should take that as a sign to call it a draw?" says Nina, letting her utensils fall onto her plate, the red pasta sauce staining the napkin she places on top. She glances over at Fabian and Mick tries not laugh at how Fabian's eyes cloud over for a moment and Nina blushes.

"You only want to quit because you were losing," says Mick.

"How am I supposed to know that they don't have Cadbury in America?" says Fabian, glancing over at Nina once more; she just laughs. "I mean, chocolate is chocolate right? We should have gotten the point for that."

"You of all people should know that chocolate is not chocolate," says Amber. "Right, Nina?"

Nina bites her lip, letting her hair fall to one side. "Fabian – "

Fabian sighs and lets his hand fall beneath the table. Mick suspects there's another hand waiting for it. "Fine, I can see I am outnumbered."

"I can't believe you didn't know that they don't have Cadbury in America," says Nina, her small smile teasing. Mick exchanges a look with Amber; the comfort finally settles, and Amber's beaming and Mick loves it. "Even Mick knew that."

"It's true, mate," says Mick, letting his free arm circle behind Amber's chair. Her fingers play with his other hand. "I know my chocolate."

"Like how some people don't like dark chocolate? I just don't get that – "

"Exactly!" says Mick, sitting up straighter.

Amber groans though. "Oh no, you got them started. Mick never shuts up about food as it is – "

"Hey!"

"And Nina about chocolate?" Amber leans forward towards Fabian. "I think we should give them some privacy."

Mick kisses Amber's hair; Fabian and Nina laugh. Amber's fingers tighten around his.

* * *

"So we should totally do this again some time!" Amber's squeal echoes through the foyer, and if everyone else had fallen asleep they'd be awake by now. "It was so much fun."

Fabian and Nina look at each other and Mick knows. "Actually, Amber," says Nina, slowly, "it was really fun – but," she hesitates and Amber's smile falls into a thought. "I think we should stick to single dates from now on?"

"You and Fabian want to make out more," says Amber and Mick laughs out loud. "I get it."

Nina's red and Fabian opens his mouth, but nothing escapes it. Mick decides to spare them. "I think we should call it a night, Ambs, yeah?"

Amber shrugs and kisses him on the lips. There's the coolness of her lips and the breath of her shampoo and then she's climbing the stairs, looking back at Nina expectantly. "Coming?"

But Nina's eyes are on Fabian; they're feeling the stars crossed above them, pulling them apart and Mick smiles. "I think Fabian and Nina are going to watch a movie. Something boring that us non-nerd-types wouldn't like."

Amber gets it because a ghost of a smile sneaks into the corner of her lips. But Mick's sure he's the only one who catches it – least of all because Fabian and Nina are only concerned with each other. "Okay," she says, shrugging.

Mick watches her leave as Fabian watches Nina and Nina watches Fabian; when Amber's dress disappears behind the doors, Mick looks back at the couple. "The Notebook," he says to Fabian. Fabian frowns and Mick looks at him. "The Notebook, definitely."

And then he leaves and Mick hopes Fabian gets the message; got to help a best mate out.


	36. spirals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If KT's honest, she's been waiting for this day. (Fabian/KT, Nina/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/8 on tumblr. This is the definition of "spot the Nara" not even a little sorry.

The day Fabian walks in and refuses to meet her eyes, his hands shaking in his pockets, his teeth gnawing at his lip - KT knows.

"So is she just visiting, or is she back for good?" KT takes pride in how steady her voice remains.

Fabian sighs. "You know."

If KT's honest, she's been waiting for this day. For the day Nina Martin walks back in; the day where her and Fabian pick up discarded pieces and begin anew. The day where she's alone once again, and this time it isn't Eddie she needs to be by her side.

But KT knows Fabian doesn't need to hear that right now. "I suspected."

Fabian sinks down beside her on his own bed. "She's coming back for a visit, for graduation."

KT's flipping through pages of a magazine, but the images blur and the words stick together. His hand rests on her knee and she pretends it's not as heavy as it feels.

"She was my first love," he says, his eyes locked upon her face. She's refuses to meet them.

"I know," she says, her finger running down the page. She draws spirals instead of lines because lines would be jagged instead of straight.

"But KT," says Fabian, scooting closer, her legs basically in his lap now. It's hard for her to pretend to ignore him, but her stomach aches; with his hands on her legs, Fabian sighs again. "KT, I'm with you."

"I know." She knows; she really does. But the buzzing in the back of her head never stops; it starts the day Fabian runs his fingers over his telescope and explains the stars. It stays and festers when Eddie and Patricia and Alfie tell her stories of the Chosen One and how she's  _Fabian's_  chosen one. It burns and aches and  _throbs_  all the time, because Nina Martin is written in every line and crevice of the House of Anubis and in Fabian Rutter's heart. And KT knows it.

"You know," says Fabian, his voice flat and his fingers still clenched against her leg. It's strong and gentle all at the same time - like Fabian, like his hugs and his kisses. "KT, Nina was my first love - "

"I know," says KT and she knows she's interrupting but the green fire has been lit and now it's growing. "You already said that."

" _But,"_ says Fabian, ignoring her comment because this the game they play - push and pull, sass and snark, "that's in the past. You, KT. You're my  _now_."

And it's romantic in that Fabian-way, and KT wishes her stomach didn't clench and her heart did stutter and her eyes didn't close. But it does and she breathes deeply. "I know," says KT, closing the magazine. It's dumped aside and she brings herself closer to Fabian. As her hands reach for his hair and shoulder, her thumb running across his forehead, she sighs. "I know," she says again, her voice almost a whisper.

And she thinks that's when Fabian  _really_ understands because his hand moves from her knee to her hips and now she's  _actually_  in his lap. "You're my now, KT, and just because a girl from my past is coming back to our home doesn't mean I'm going to just forget you. Or your weird tree fetish."

KT tries, for a very brief moment, not to giggle; but she fails: it's their  _thing_ , the trees and the apples and making out against the trunks, bark in her hair. "I know."

"You're sounding very repetitive," says Fabian, and despite the slight worry tinting his voice, KT smiles.

" _I know,"_ she whispers. And Fabian's eyes narrow and the corner of his lips are tugging upwards.

KT beats him to the kiss first.

* * *

A week later, and  _of course_ it's when KT volunteers to answer the door that before her stands Nina Martin. There's one suitcase wheeled behind her and another bag on her shoulder. And behind Nina, stands another.

"Nina!" says KT, grinning. "Mara!" Three steps and she's grabbed the latter girl in a hug. "I didn't know you were coming too!"

Mara glances over at Nina, who blushes slightly. "We wanted it to be a surprise." KT notices how their skin brushes together, whether in hands or shoulders or feet.

"Well come in! Everyone's so excited to see you, Nina, and they'll be so happy to see you, Mara!"

KT follows behind the two; there's something about their smiles and glowing eyes that settles KT's stomach and heart. The doubt and fear and jealousy gnawing in the back of her mind finally crumbles; a suspicion instead rises, especially when Mara's fingers sneak behind Nina's hand and swirl slightly. When Fabian grabs both of them in deep hugs, KT just grins and laughs at Willow squealing Mara's name.

If anything, KT can't wait for Fabian to figure it out; his face should be worth it.


	37. laundry hampers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're curled up between the washer and the dryer, the door barricaded with laundry hampers (Alfie/Patricia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/11 on tumblr for the prompt "Patralfie. Maybe realizing their friendship soulmates?" by makefunofourexes

They're curled up between the washer and the dryer, the door barricaded with laundry hampers. It's warm between the working machines, and it doesn't help that Patricia is squeezed right beside him, but it's okay.

"Do you believe in soul mates?" asks Alfie. He wants to hesitate, to be nervous, because this is  _Patricia_  - but he isn't. Because this is  _Patricia:_ she raises an eyebrow, snorts, and rolls her eyes.

"No," she says. Her boots slide towards her as her arm tightens around her dark washed skinny jeans.

"I mean like friendship soul mates. Like we were meant to be friends forever," he says, an elbow into her knees. Patricia rolls her eyes again but says nothing and Alfie grins. "See? You know I'm right."

Patricia shrugs. "Maybe," she says, leaning backwards, her wavy hair cascading around her. "Who would have thought it would be the two of us to stick together?"

"Exactly," says Alfie. "The two people no one would believe."

"Together forever," she says, smiling softly and Alfie loves that Patricia  _gets_  him. No matter the leather jackets and hidden heart; no matter the annoyance and irritation at his jokes; no matter their differences, Patricia still sits beside him in the laundry room and humors him.

"Patricia Williamson, look at you," says Alfie. "Being all sappy." Patricia pushes against him into the washer; his head slams against the metal side and Alfie winces. "Ugh, that  _hurt_."

"Good," says Patricia. But her smile is small and her elbow rubs against his leg and Alfie rolls his eyes.


	38. green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie isn't really sure how it happens, but when it comes to Patricia that isn't out of the ordinary. (Eddie/Patricia)

Eddie isn't really sure how it happens, but when it comes to Patricia that isn't out of the ordinary. One moment they're walking; fingers are laced together and Patricia's bracelets are tickling the skin of his wrist. Then she's angry and he's confused and they're both yelling over each other and he's not really sure how it happens at all.

But if he thinks about it, it probably starts something like –

"So Mara wants to go on a double date with us and Fabian," says Eddie, watching a bird swoop into a tree. But he can still hear Patricia's groan.

"I love Mara, and I love Fabian," she says, but her grimace colors her tone as well as her face, "but together? They'd bore us to death."

Eddie laughs. "I'm sure it won't be  _that_  bad. Mara can be quite the conversationalist."

Patricia pauses, opening her mouth for a second, before closing it. The stab in Eddie's stomach bothers Eddie more than it should, but Patricia just keeps walking; so maybe he imagines the green flashing in her eyes.

"You know – we could invite KT to one of our dates." Eddie almost regrets his words; but Patricia just purses her lips and continues walking and Eddie knows he should stop, but somehow the rush is spreading all over.

(It probably helps that Patricia's infinitely hotter when she's mad. Not that Eddie's ever said that out loud - he decides he likes keeping his parts properly arranged.)

So Eddie suppresses another grin and begins to swing their hands between them. While a tiny drop of water lands on his nose, Patricia glares at him and stiffens their arms. Eddie just grins some more. "We'd have to find her a date, of course – maybe that guy Mara dated last year – Mick?"

Patricia visibly stiffens; but Eddie's eyes narrow and maybe it's green that flashes for a moment in  _his_  eyes. "He's in Australia," says Patricia, her voice even and only tiny twitch of her finger betraying anything but nonchalance. "So that'd be kind of difficult, don't you think?"

"Maybe," says Eddie, a suspicion rising in his chest as their footsteps slow. "But Fabian said he was coming to visit again – and KT told me they really hit it off at the end of last term – "

"Did she?" says Patricia, and Eddie swears her teeth are grinding together. "That's – " Patricia pauses and takes a deep breath while glancing over at him. Eddie is frowning now. "It's great," she says and although Eddie can sense sincerity in her voice, the green is turning into red and he needs to unbutton his collar.

They walk in silence for a little bit, awkwardly avoiding looking at each other despite their hands still intertwined and their destination still undetermined. But then it happens.

"So, this Mick – did you have a crush on him or something?"

Patricia stops walking all together and that's pretty much Eddie's answer, but she goes ahead and sighs anyway. "A long time ago, back when he was dating Amber."

A few more droplets hit his hair and he runs a hand through it. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"I mean – it's cool," says Eddie and he wishes a cool wash of blue would wash over him, but the red still remains. "It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter now."

He wishes Patricia could believe him; but he wishes he could believe himself, so he doesn't blame her for her hand slipping out of his as she crosses her arms.

"You're jealous."

Eddie debates lying. "A little," he says.

"So you're allowed to get jealous, but I'm not?" says Patricia and this is about the point where he's not quite sure what is happening.

"I never said – "

"Because Mick and I never hung out as much as you and KT!" Patricia's foot is running across the ground and Eddie knows she's agitated now.

And the confusion breaks and Eddie throws his hands up. "KT and I are  _just friends_ , Yacker, and you know that; I never liked her romantically – "

"Doesn't mean she never liked you!"

Eddie almost laughs but restrains himself – just barely. "I'm  _pretty_  sure she likes – "

"It doesn't matter!" says Patricia, waving his objection away. "If you can be jealous over me  _briefly_  liking Mick in the  _past_ , then I can be jealous over KT – "

"You can be jealous! I never said you couldn't!" Some part of him whispers something about overreactions, but most of it hides under a fog and Patricia's getting riled up and it's kind of hot – "But if you're going to be jealous over KT, then what about Alfie, huh? You two practically read each other thoughts!"

" _Alfie_  – seriously, this again – "

"Yes, this again!" Eddie takes a step closer to her, his eyes narrowed and he doesn't really know at this point if he truly believes it or if he just loves the way Patricia's eyes glare at him. His eyes might have flashed or it might have been lightning. "I hang out with KT just as much as you hang out with Alfie – "

Patricia groans as she takes a step forward. Her frustration vibrates through his chest as her voice grows in volume. "It's not the  _same_ , didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you!" Her breath tickles his nose now and he can see her bright eyes perfectly and his blood runs warm. "But that doesn't mean you're right – "

"And what,  _you are?"_

"Yes actually – "

" _Please_ , like that would ever happen – "

"Actually, Yacker – "

"Ugh, you're such an idiotic, ratfaced  _weasel_ – "

"Will you  _shut up_  already?"

" _Make me._ "

And he's just about to when the mild drizzle turns into moderate rain and he's already decently soaked. Eddie looks up at the gray skies before meeting Patricia's eyes.

And they laugh.

"You have  _got_  to be kidding me," he says because this is probably the worst timing ever. "Only in the movies – "

"Apparently not," says Patricia and although her face is still strewn into her "battle face", her eyes are shining. "But I think – " she says, stepping closer to him again and he wonders if it's hot enough to keep him dry, "I think you were just about to make me shut up."

Eddie breathes her in; it's vanilla and cinnamon, leather and rain. Her warm breath tickles his nose and when her hand sneaks up his chest, his lips are on hers. Her hair is soft and thick in between his fingers, but his thumb loves running down her jawline, his other fingers caressing the back of her neck. He's not really sure where her hands are, other than exactly where he wants them to be – on him.

It's when he's pretty sure he's already caught a cold and passed it onto Patricia and back again that he finally backs up a little. "Yacker – " he starts, but her mouth is on his neck now and he groans. " _Yacker_ – "

"You're the one talking too much right now, Krueger."

"Yes, but – " She pulls at his hair and he almost pushes her up against the oak tree behind him. But his toes have started to grow numb. "Yacker – we need to go to inside."

"I know," she says, and even if she does know, she's not moving - although her kisses are.

"Yes, well, I can't exactly walk straight if you're all over me – "

Patricia's by his ear now. "Are you complaining?"

Eddie ignores her. "Yacker, I love you – but I don't want to get hypothermia, Fabian won't let me hear the end of it – "

Patricia stiffens and Eddie wonders if mentioning Fabian is the key to get her out of the mood – but then his words catch up to his brain; his mouth is dry when Patricia stares at him.

"What did you say?"

Of course she knows exactly what he just said but Eddie knows she needs to confirm; this is  _Patricia_  – the girl he –

"Patricia," says Eddie and for the first time in a very long time, Patricia looks at him completely seriously, "I love you."

"Eddie," she says and at first he thinks he hears her voice cracking and he knows he's messed up. She's going to run again and this time he won't be able to catch her and then he'll be back to square one without her and how is he supposed to hold himself together this time –

"Eddie," says Patricia again, and this time her voice is stronger and Eddie's thoughts cease all together. "I love you too."

(In the end, Trudy has to nurse two very bad colds; luckily, there's no hypothermia. Unfortunately, Fabian and KT are very interested in why Eddie and Patricia return thirty minutes, soaking wet, with swollen lips and smiles that they, of all people, can't seem to hide.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/27, Sara's birthday, for the prompt "the most corny peddie story ever" by anonymous. No I'm not kidding, that was actually the prompt.


	39. vegan food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick's hands are stuffed into his pocket, his shoulders hunched forward and Willow thinks his hair reflects gold rather than silver (during "House of Alarms", Willow, Mick, Mick/Amber)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 5/28.

             _“I love you, Ambs. But we’re mates, not dates. You know what I’m saying?”_

_“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”_

—

            Willow glides into the room, expecting to see empty chairs and a frustrated teacher. But Mick Campbell sits, leaning back and eyes closed, the wrinkles in his forehead glowing in apple confliction. He bites his lip as if deep in thought and Willow is curious.

            “Hi Mick!” she says, brightly and loudly, because no one else is in the room to overpower her. The chair slips and Mick’s foot curls around a desk leg; he almost topples over and Willow cringes. “Sorry!”

            “Willow,” says Mick, taking a deep breath and a wave of blue overtakes him. “Um, I kinda want to be alone right now – “

            “I heard you and Amber broke up,” she says instead, because the whispers are loud as they echo in the hallway; they begin as students pile in after the fire alarm, but they spread quickly. Even in an empty room, Willow can feel the rumors crawling through the study body like a web; it’s a swirl of mist hovering because  _the alpha couple broke up_.

            Mick groans but his eyes flash once; a moment passes and Willow catches guilt and regret and sadness all at once amidst the hurricane of colors and smells and textures that surround him. But then the colors and blocks all collapse and Willow can only see Mick in his baggy sweatshirt, his face in his hands, breathing deeply.

            “It’ll be okay,” says Willow, slipping into the chair beside Mick. She doesn’t touch him; she just sits there, her bag in her lap and her eyes focused on the front of the room. The corner of her eyes is filled with him though, because he glances her way.

            “Will it?” Mick’s hands are stuffed into his pocket, his shoulders hunched forward and Willow thinks his hair reflects gold rather than silver. “I’ve been with Amber so long – it feels weird, to not have her – “ he stops talking and Willow smiles at the suspicion hiding in his gaze, twinkling black in blue. “I’m sorry, I barely even know you, so I don’t think – “

            “Sometimes, you just need someone to listen who’s completely unbiased to give a fresh opinion,” she says.

            Mick looks at her; fuzzy lines sharpen and Willow grins as her hair drapes over her arm. Leaning on her elbow, Willow studies Mick as he speaks. “Well, um,” he says, his fingers twirling the string to his hoodie, “I want Amber to be my friend, you know? I love her – but we don’t really have much in common and she kept ignoring me for Nina – “

            “Why was she ignoring you?”

            “I don’t know,” he says, his fingers twisting together, an accordion without sound. His shoulders tighten and Willow thinks it’s funny how he’s playing an instrument in the air without realizing it. “I told her I didn’t like being ignored and she promised to meet me for a picnic – and then she didn’t show up.”

            Willow nods. “You need someone who pays attention to you. You need someone to give you their undivided attention.”

            “I mean, she can hang out with other people,” says Mick. “I just want to spend time with her too.”

            And this time, as the shoulders fall forward and the perimeter blurs into restless motion, Willow lets her hand graze his arm. “It’ll be okay,” she says again, more sure that she’s right, especially since her heart beats faster when she does. “And besides, Mara definitely likes you.”

            Mick raises an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

            And Willow laughs because she doesn’t, not really. “Sometimes the fairies tell me things, like how to read certain symbols in my tea leaves or whether to branch out from just vegan food. That’s how I knew that I needed to search empty classrooms today.” Mick’s mouth opens a little but Willow thinks the questions in his eyes are for further information. “There was the image of the peacock and a mole – “

            “Willow,” says Mick and the light gray is back again, dulling the trellises of black as the chaos calms, “thanks.”

            Willow tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “But I didn’t do – “

            “Thanks,” says Mick again and this time Willow just shrugs. She leaves before Mick speaks again, because whenever she gets thanked for something, Willow assumes it means she needs to leave the room; her sparkle of pixie dust has been spread for now and it’s time to find another corner that needs sanding.


	40. blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Eddie begun to squirm again, Fabian felt the vibration, humming from Eddie's pocket. It spread throughout Fabian, nerves tingling in the anticipation of intercepting a call that clearly Eddie wanted to conceal (Fabian, Nina, Eddie)

" _Fabian_ , you've got to listen to me!" Eddie struggled in his arms, but Fabian just grinned. Of course  _he_  could keep Eddie pinned down.

"Oh just shut up already," said Fabian, rolling his eyes. The whining and the pleas had started to get quite annoying and Fabian wasn't in the mood anymore. "You're worse than Mara."

Eddie froze a moment before trying to twist out of Fabian's grip again. But Fabian tightened his fingers and Mr. Frobisher-Smythe chuckled behind them. "Maybe we should have gotten her instead," he said, leaning casually against the borrowed desk. Papers laid scattered and Fabian caught glimpses of strange artifacts and foreign symbols.

When Eddie begun to squirm again, Fabian felt the vibration, humming from Eddie's pocket. It spread throughout Fabian, nerves tingling in the anticipation of intercepting a call that clearly Eddie wanted to conceal. "Well, what do we have here," said Fabian, quickly slipping the phone out of Eddie's pocket.

"Don't – "

Fabian didn't bother to check caller id. "Eddie's phone. Sorry, but Eddie's all – tied up at the moment."

"Fabian?"

The voice cracked against the weak signal, but it was still ringing loudly against the static. Even the room around him grew silent as Eddie stilled and Fabian's teeth grinded together. "You."

Nina Martin's frown sung in her tone. "What – Fabian's what going on? Where's Eddie?"

"I told you," said Fabian, loosening his grip and letting Mr. Sweet grab Eddie before he could run away. Fabian slipped the phone to his other hand, his shoulders straightening and his chest feeling lighter already. "He's tied up. Not really in any condition to talk to anyone, least of all  _you_."

"Fabian – "

"Oh, are you going to apologize?" He hoped his sneer rode in the hiss that left his lips; his turned up nose made Patricia laugh but Fabian just glared back. "Because you don't need to."

"I know, but Fabian, this is important. I think Eddie and I – "

"But always back to Eddie," said Fabian, one foot stepping in front of another. He was drawing patterns on the floor with his feet, but his eyes were drawing draggers into Eddie. "Keeping in touch, I see. Which is great, of course, the Chosen One and the Osirian, best friends forever." The bitterness escaped him, oozing in his every step and word; maybe if there was that tiny voice whispering in his mind he would have tried to stifled it. "Shouldn't you be avoiding everything Anubis? Or was that all a lie too?"

"Too? What are you talking about – "

"Amber's gone," said Fabian instead, the words running away from him. "And these two new girls – " Fabian laughed, the acrid taste of fire dancing on his tongue. "Oh, they're worse than you." When silence greeted him, Fabian felt the fire spreading. "KT is always determined to find her  _great-grandpa_ , nauseatingly so." The dark laughter behind him echoed loudly and shivers licked the flames. "And Willow – god, there is only air in that head." Nina continued to breathe loudly without words and Fabian loved how everything seemed easier and  _better_  this way. "So I guess it's great you decided to ditch us."

"I didn't  _ditch you,_ Fabian! I told you, Eddie and I can't be together – "

"So you call him and you  _never call me once_ ," said Fabian. When Patricia flinched backwards and glared at him, he realized how loud his voice had crept. He took a moment, breathing deeply, letting the red and orange and yellow dance in his veins, mingling with the vibrations. A white ghost was missing, but somehow that made everything brighter.

"That's not true at all, Fabian – why are you so – " her voice broke, and Fabian heard the tears swimming in her eyes and the clogging in her throat. The fire only built. "What's happened to you?"

"What do you mean, Nina?" Fabian stopped pacing now; his eyes fell upon Mr. Frobisher-Smythe, with his long fingers crawling along the desk and his eyes bright and narrowed. Fabian felt the fire take over all at once; he imagined his eyes flashing red. "You did this. You left me. You left me, you selfish girl, and everyone knows it. Our leader and our chosen one, left her friends and her  _family_  and sent back the protector to lead us all."

At the mention of his role, as if reminded of what he was meant to be doing, Eddie begun to squirm again, kicking against Mr. Sweet and rolling his shoulders in an attempt to twist his wrists out of the iron grip.

Fabian grinned. "Too bad he's doing such an awful job at it."

Maybe Nina said something else, and part of Fabian wanted to know what would it be. But that part was burned by the heat, crushed and ruined; the ashes scattered and Fabian was left empty and on fire, a phone hanging between fingers. He let the phone shatter against the titled floor; he made a point to step to on it, crushing the plastic and metal under his shoe, the cracking of fire and wood strengthening.

"Now where were we?" said Fabian, pulling Eddie back towards the line of sarcophagi. In his mind he heard the dial tone of a dropped call, the long-distance minutes climbing as Fabian ignored that missing piece of glass cutting away at the bitterness and anger and sorrow. Because all Fabian saw was Mr. Frobisher-Smythe grinning at him, proudly; the fire turned blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 6/4 for the prompt "Evil Fabian intercepts a call from Eddie's phone and it's Nina".


End file.
